Piaculum
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Novelization. For his entire life, Ico thought he was destined to die as an adolescent. When he is given a chance at life, Ico grabs the opportunity and finds himself thrust into a wild adventure, complete with fear, courage, and friendship.
1. Him

**Disclaimer: I do not own ICO in any way, shape, or form. ICO belongs to Fumito Ueda, his crew, and Sony Computer Entertainment. I make no profit in writing this story. **

**Reason for title: According to my Latin dictionary, "piaculum - (neuter) propitiatory sacrifice, victim; atonement, expiation; remedy; crime, sacrilege; punishment." Some of the chapter titles were taken from the original soundtrack, while others I simply made up. At the end of each chapter, I will explain the title for those who might be interested.****  
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**Author's Note: How can I begin to describe what a lovely game ICO is? It's very simplistic, but that only adds to its beauty, I think. ICO is one of my favorite games of all times, if only because it touched me in a place not many video games do. My hope is that, with this novelisation, I can convey the same story that touched me so, to people who might not ever get a chance to play the game. That being said, I don't think any novelisation would ever be able to truly capture the spirit of the game, even if it was written by an exceedingly talented author. And I am by no means an exceedingly talented author. This is merely my humble attempt at exposing the story to those who have never heard of ICO - or perhaps showing a different take on the story to other die-hard fans.**

**A huge amount of thanks is due to Peter Eliot, author of the magnificent "Talking ICO: An Annotation," which can be found at GameFAQs. Without his annotation (or as my friend called it, "more like a dissertation"), I would most likely not appreciate ICO as much as I do now. I wouldn't have considered many of the finer points of the story, nor would I have treated it with the respect I think it deserves as a masterpiece of games. So, thank you Peter Eliot for writing your disserta- I mean, annotation.**

**I also ought to thank my brother, who helped me by beta-ing this, and leading me by the hand through the painful process of ripping some parts to shreds. I didn't always follow your suggestions, Brother (I guess I'm stubborn like that), but your help was invaluable to me. As usual.**

**Now. If you are new to the game, I suppose I might as well tell you now that ICO is a puzzle game. Thus, the majority of the game involves puzzles that are, quite frankly, boring to read if put down exactly on paper (it would read like a walkthrough). I've tried my best to alleviate the tedious nature of these puzzles, by cutting out parts here and there, and changing some of the architecture somewhat so it translates better into the written word. I've kept in the most memorable parts, I think (such as the windmill and the hall with the chandeliers), so fans of the game will still be able to smile reminiscently as they remember their adventures through this game. I've also tried very hard to make the battles interesting, because (as anyone who has read my FFX novelisation could tell you) battles are one of my greatest weaknesses.**

**I will be quite glad to receive any reviews that come my way, but I would very much prefer it if you could give me some kind of constructive comments, or at least something more substantial than, "great story, keep updating, bye." No piece of writing is perfect, and this novelisation is quite far from perfect, so I know you can find something that could have been written better. I reply to every review I get, but you'd really make my day if you could find at least one specific thing to comment about in every chapter.**

**Now, if you've read all that, you deserve a prize. I hope the intro will suffice. **

**Piaculum**

**Chapter One – Him**

Ico blinked as the newly-risen sun glared down on his closed eyelids. Yawning, he lifted his hands to rub his sleepy eyes, and remembered that they were shackled together. He shook his head slightly, his gaze meeting the back of a horse's head bobbing up and down as it trudged along. All the memories of the past twelve hours or so returned to him then, and he shivered as he felt the silent, hooded rider behind him, who held the reins and kept Ico on the horse at the same time. A swift glance to both sides told him that the other riders hadn't left, either. They flanked his rider's horse, every bit as silent as their master. All three men – if indeed they were men – wore heavy black cloaks that covered their shirts of chainmail, as well as masks and hoods that completely obscured their faces. The two to either side also wore helmets with rough bronze horns that curved sharply downwards.

The morning was deceitfully fresh, the sun annoyingly bright and cheerful. Morning mist still clung about the ground, but the sunlight had already begun to dapple the forest floor gold, shining through the translucent leaves on the trees and reflecting off them with an almost ethereal shimmer. For all the warmth of the sunlight, though, the atmosphere around the three riders and their small burden was ice-cold.

Ico saw, with an unpleasant lurch of his stomach, that they were approaching the edge of the forest, and consequently, their journey. The three horses drew up a few feet from a sharp cliff's edge, where an old, ruined bit of masonry stood. It might once have been a gate or outpost of some sort, but now all that remained was a small square of broken stone flooring surrounded by crumbling columns. A short flight of steps led down to the very edge of the cliff, where what appeared to be a short wall stood. But it seemed a very strange wall, not reaching half the height of what few columns remained standing, and looked as well-preserved as the rest of the stone was ruinous. Ico wondered what this little ruin had been, and why it was so close to the cliff edge.

The riders began to dismount, so Ico slid off the black horse as well, his knees almost buckling under him from riding in the saddle so long. While the riders tethered their horses and checked their saddlebags, the boy strode closer to the edge, his hands still bound tightly together. Looking over, he saw that the cliff dropped sharply down for an incredible distance, before meeting the iron-grey waters of the bay. Ico slowly lifted his gaze to a grouping of four islands that jutted up from the water to the same height as the mainland shore. An enormous castle loomed up even higher, swallowing up what little space the islands had to offer, thrusting support columns deep into the sea floor, spanning bridges across the gaps in between the islands. Towers, bridges, buttresses, courtyards...all these Ico could see, mingled together like a mindless jumble that nevertheless had some undiscovered purpose. They crowded together and blocked each other from sight, yet there was a strange, beautiful order to them. It made Ico's mind spin just to look at it.

He noticed that the main gates stood wide open and wondered why, for there was no bridge connecting the castle to the mainland cliffs. _How are we going to get to the castle, then?_ he wondered. For if the riders' very few words were any clue, this castle was their destination.

The chief rider, the one Ico had ridden with, placed a heavy hand on Ico's shoulder, turning him forcefully away from the magnificent view. He pointed wordlessly to a narrow path cut into the side of the cliff, which led from the small ruin where they stood down to a little wooden dock at the water's edge. The chief pushed Ico down the path ahead of him, and as the boy struggled down the steep and winding path, he could hear the iron boots of the riders crunching decisively behind him. Ico tried not to look down at the hungry waves gnawing at the cliffside, and he was extremely relieved when they stepped off the treacherous path and onto the creaky, soaked dock. The chief guided Ico into a small wooden boat and crouched down behind him. The other two riders crowded in as well, one standing up at the prow to push the boat along with a long, white pole.

Slowly, they passed along the channel towards the castle. Ico strained his neck to watch the great stone structure draw nearer and nearer, towering above them like a giant leering down on his prey. He had never seen anything so gigantic, or so hauntingly beautiful! They passed through several ruined archways that might have held up a part of the castle in their earlier days. The archways were covered with the remnants of once-magnificent carvings that had been worn almost completely away by the pounding of the surf. Far, far above them Ico could see long, rusted pipes running from one island to the other, and above that a thin bridge suspended over thin air, connecting two sections of the castle.

Presently a small cave mouth appeared ahead of them, and the rider with the long stick directed the boat into it. The sound of the waves slapping angrily against the rocks turned into the deeper, colder sound of water running through a cave. A wooden platform had been built alongside the water, and the horned rider who had up to this point remained idle leapt nimbly up onto this structure, disappearing from sight. Ico wondered briefly what would happen if he pitched over the side of the boat into the water, but he immediately realized this would only worsen his position. He could feel the chief rider's gaze on the back of his neck, and his hands were still shackled, making swimming to freedom out of the question. Ico sighed inwardly.

Their little wooden vessel gradually drew near an iron gate that blocked passage further into the cave. But even as they approached, it lifted with a grating sound and the rider dropped back into the boat, his task accomplished. The water extended for a short distance until it lapped up onto a stone shore at the back of the cave, the dark walls pressing the cold air close about them. The riders pulled the boat up onto this shore beside a spare boat identical to it, and clambered out. Hoisting Ico out himself, the chief rider turned to one of the others. "Get the sword," he said in his soft, whispery voice.

Shudders ran down Ico's spine as he heard the rider speak; it sounded like the voiceless murmur of a ghost, and Ico decided he rather preferred it when his captor _didn't_ speak. The other rider hastened away into the shadows again as ordered, returning a few moments later holding a great sword sheathed in an ivory case. The chief nodded and led the way through a dark doorway carved right out of the rock. Once inside, Ico saw that they were inside a tall, tall tower, one that must have led straight up to the top of the castle. In the middle of this tower was a circular wall every bit as high as the tower, with two statues sitting side by side at its base, directly in front of the doorway. These statues were not much more than sharply-carved blocks with strange symbols all over them, but they almost seemed to have faces, very sad faces that touched and haunted Ico at the same time. He shivered and hung his head, not wishing to look at them. Yet his eyes were drawn irresistibly to them, and he noticed that smaller statues were set into the lower part of the larger statues. These looked like children hugging their knees to their body and resting their head on their knees. Two horns sprouted from their heads, completing this picture of the same forlorn, abandoned feeling that Ico had experienced his entire life.

The rider holding the sword stepped up to these statues and pulled the sword out of its sheath a few inches, so that a small bit of the blade could be seen. A bright flash of white shot from the exposed blade towards the statues, like a current of lightning that spread into every small recess of the statues' surface. It seemed as though the statues' eyes were glowing cold fear out at the riders and small boy, daring them to step further and warning them to stay away. But after a moment the statues inched apart, revealing a doorway behind them that led into a tall, round room that stretched on so far above Ico's head that he couldn't even see the top. The rider slid the sword back into its sheath and led the way into the room. The others filed in behind him.

Symbols like the ones on the statues adorned the floor, pointing in several directions as though they were signs of some sort. Ico wondered what they meant, until one glowed a cold greenish-white and the floor began to move upward. He felt his stomach drop into his toes as a strange sense of weightlessness filled him; he thought he might just float away at any moment. This thought was so terrifying that, had he been in any other company, he would have clutched at them for support. As it was, he did not, and they managed to reach the top in one piece, where they found the doorway blocked by the backs of two statues identical to the ones at the bottom of the tower. Ico's stomach lurched back into place as the floor came to a stop. The rider bared the sword a little again and the statues hurried out of the way.

Ico found that they were in a huge hall made completely of stone bricks. Two staircases against the far wall led upwards to a landing with a strange round disk set into the middle of the floor. Two more staircases began on this landing, but they stopped only halfway to the top landing, where a long line of the sad-faced statues served as a great closed door. The riders, however, were more interested in the rest of the hall, and in the two large stone ledges that covered each wall and rose up almost to the ceiling. Lined up neatly along these ledges were a few score of strange, vaguely egg-shaped vessels about Ico's height. Odd symbols were carved into their faces, symbols that almost looked like two kneeling children with arms stretched out to each other. On the right wall, three from the right on the lower row, one of these vessels seemed set apart from the others. Its symbols glowed the same cold bluish-white that the statues had when they moved away from the sword.

Ico was rather curious about what these strange vessels were for, at least until the riders began to make their way to the one with the glowing symbols. The chief easily picked the boy up and carried him over to the waiting vessel. As they approached, the top of the vessel lifted, revealing its cold and empty interior. There was nothing inside except for two rings where one's wrists could be fastened, to prevent escape. It suddenly struck Ico that these vessels seemed more like upright coffins than anything else, and a horrified shiver passed through him. The chief lifted Ico into the glowing tomb, and fastened the boy's shackled wrists to the iron rings. As the coffin slowly closed over him, the chief's breathy voice murmured, "Don't be angry. It is for the good of the village." The lid shut with a small click, and Ico's world was shrouded in darkness. He could hear the riders' boots returning to the door with the statues.

A terrible, frantic fear swamped the little boy as he stood in the darkness of his coffin. They had left him alone, to starve in the cold darkness of the tomb, or to be devoured by creatures that only appeared in nightmares. He had to get out, he _had_ to! Ico struggled desperately against his bonds as the riders stepped back into the antechamber that would take them back to their boat. The walls shook as the little elevator moved downwards, and Ico threw himself backward, hearing the stone underneath his coffin crumble to dust. The coffin wobbled, then slowly tipped forward out of its little niche and broke open on the stone floor. Ico felt something crunch near his wrists, and flew out of the little coffin. His head hit the hard stones with a tremendous force, and the boy lay still.

* * *

_The cursed child. That was what they always called him. Though he had a name, no one ever used it. If they spoke of him at all, it was in hushed whispers, calling him only _the boy._ It was said that in every generation, one child was born for whom every evil could be blamed. Every lost crop, every dead child, every sick animal was ultimately his fault, because of the curse placed on their village. The legends said that this child would be known by the horns that grew from his head, the curving ivory horns, the hideous bull horns._

_Every child-bearing mother prayed with all her might that her child would not be the one, but one in every generation was doomed to bear the horned child. This time, the woman had only time to murmur, "His name is Ico," before death claimed her. The boy's father saw the tiny stubs that poked out from the baby's skull, and knew that the misfortunes had already begun. Ico was passed from one reluctant woman to another until he was strong enough to go without a mother's nourishment, and then he was given only enough food to keep from starving. While the people of the village couldn't bring themselves to starve the boy, they secretly hoped that if they did not feed him, perhaps the curse would take itself away and find another vessel, somewhere far away. And how could they pamper the boy who had brought about drought after drought, bad harvest after bad harvest, disease after disease? Ico never meant to cause the horrible things that continued to happen, but he knew that it was an unavoidable effect of the curse._

_Yet no matter how poorly they treated him, Ico grew into a strong lad, and the horns on his head steadily grew, curving upwards gracefully. The men of the village eyed these horns warily, eager for the day when they would be fully grown. For when his horns had finished their growth, they would finally be rid of this cursed child. They would be granted a few brief years of reprieve, before the pall of the curse fell on them once more. For Ico, it happened on his twelfth birthday. They bathed him, trimmed his jet-black hair, and dressed him carefully in the customary clothing for such an occurrence: a bright red shirt over his breeches, and the patterned green sacrificial cloth over his shirt. A white bandage wrapped around his head, the horns poking through, and strips of leather wrapped around his wrists. They put new sandals on his feet, told him to stay in the village square, and all hurried inside._

_Ico watched as they bolted their doors and closed their shutters, and stood shivering in the chill twilight, rubbing his bare arms. Slowly, the darkness fell and clouds gathered overhead. The moaning wind carried the distant sound of hoofbeats to his ears, and eventually the three riders came into view. The chief rider dismounted, approached Ico, shackled his wrists together, and effortlessly hoisted the boy into the saddle. Remounting, he led the other riders out of the village where Ico had lived his entire life, and began the long journey to the castle._

**So what do you think so far? Please review, if you've read this far! The title of this chapter might come across to you as dumb, but I like the idea. You'll see XD**_  
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	2. Her

**Author's Note: I think I forgot to mention this before, but about halfway through the story there will be major spoilers for the sequel/prequel game Shadow of the Colossus. It won't be coming up for a while, but I thought I'd better warn you just in case. Please continue to read and review!**

**Chapter Two – Her**

_Climbing stair after winding stair, Ico slowly neared the top of the tower, running his hand along the cold stones of the curving wall at his side. The stormy wind outside fluttered the wisps of curtain in the windows above his head, blowing rain inside. He looked to his left and flinched, coming to a stop and cowering back against the wall. An iron cage with sharp spikes protruding from its top and bottom hung over the long drop of the tower. A thick, dark mass of shadow pooled in the bottom of the cage, overflowing and dripping slowly over the side. One thick drop fell the long length of the tower, like syrup, like blood. It fell onto the disc in the floor, soon followed by two more drops._

_A deeper, darker shadow extricated itself from the pooling mass, taking its form as it pushed itself up. Ico thought it looked like a woman, or a girl; just the vague outline of a human, blacker than the darkest night. He wanted to run, but his legs would not move. The wall against his back was growing steadily colder, and he could hear a faint sound pressing against his ears, like the moaning echoes of a million ghosts. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, and saw that another shadow had grown up on the wall behind him, steadily growing larger and larger, until it threatened to close out the whole world. Ico tried to pull away, but the shadow clung to him like sucking mud. It pulled him greedily in – he struggled – and the shadow snatched him up and closed over his head. The last thing he saw before it all faded away was the shadow-girl reaching out her hand in a silent plea._

_

* * *

_

Ico slowly picked himself up off the stone floor, blinking to clear his head of that nightmare. His head throbbed and the skin of his palms had been scraped off in his skidding fall. Feeling dazed and confused, Ico looked back over his shoulder to see his overturned coffin lying on the floor. Gradually, the realization came to him: He was free. By some twist of fate, he had been granted a pardon from the terrible destiny every horned child was bound to. Or had it been...more than simply coincidence? Ico glanced upwards at the stones of the ceiling, as if they would whisper an answer to him, but then he shook his head. He was cursed; whatever god lurked behind the clouds had shunned him from his birth. The village priest was always admonishing Ico, telling him it had been divine will that he had been born with horns. Why should that same divinity secure his release?

It was coincidence, then. Simply coincidence. The stones of this ancient castle had crumbled because of the rumbling the little elevator had made when the riders left, and his thrashing about had caused the coffin to overbalance. It had been Ico's destiny to die, to be sacrificed, to perish as a mere child, but he was shedding his destiny as a snake rids itself of an old skin. _Destiny be hanged, fate be hanged, I must get out of here!_ he resolved. _I will escape this ancient castle, and I will live._ He couldn't imagine crawling back into that coffin and waiting to die, not now he had been offered life. He had long ago despaired of living past adolescence, yet now...

The boy looked around him at the huge hall once more. Everything seemed to take on a different light now that he knew he would live on. The castle was still imposing, even terrifying, but a new strength had entered his limbs. This horned child would not be sacrificed.

He slowly began to walk to the wall where the statue-door had been, but he saw immediately that it had lowered into the floor when the riders had left. In its place was a closed door of some sort of rusted metal and a lever stuck into the wall beside it. Ico pulled the lever, watching the door slide upwards, providing him with an escape from this crypt. Taking a deep breath and tamping down the fears that rose up inside him, he stepped into the next room.

Ico found himself in a tall, tall tower, one that seemed tall enough to touch the very sky itself. A wall topped with iron spikes rose up halfway across the floor, looming high over his head. Four statues like the ones in the crypt sat staring at him motionlessly in the middle of this wall, as though surprised to see a living being in this dead castle. Ico immediately saw that the only direction he could go was up the tower, and craned his neck back to survey the immense height of it. He couldn't even see the top.

A ladder clung to the right wall, and Ico slowly pulled himself up the cold metal rungs to a small stone landing above it. A long staircase began directly in front of him, and curled up in a spiral about the tower as far as he could see. He began to walk, wondering what would be at the top. Perhaps there was a window up there – he thought he felt a draft – from which he could see how far he was from the shore. But whatever he was expecting to find, he was certainly not expecting what greeted his eyes when he reached the top.

A tugging sense of deja vu pulled at the back of his mind as he climbed higher and higher, trailing his fingers along the stone wall. He glanced down, gulping when he saw how far he was from the ground, and determinedly turned his gaze back to the top of the tower. Yet when he did, his footsteps slowly faltered, and he pressed himself back against the wall. He had reached the top of the tower, and almost perfectly level with him was an iron cage with spikes protruding from the top and bottom swinging slightly on a thick yet rusted chain from the ceiling. The very same cage from his dream! Yet instead of a mass of shadows, a girl sat in this cage. He gaped at her for a couple moments, unable to move or think.

She was thin and rather delicate-looking, like a bit of lace or a glass figurine. She sat in the same manner as the little statues that moved aside for the magical sword: clutching her knees to her chest, resting her head on her knees. Her mousey-brown hair was thin and hung limply around her neck, like tired tendrils of thought. In a shocking contrast to the shadowy thing of Ico's dream, this girl's skin was an almost blinding white. Not simply pale, but _white_, luminous, almost glowing of its own accord. The girl wore a simple white dress the same blinding white as her skin, and her feet were bare. At first Ico wondered if she was a ghost...but how could a ghost look so real, so forlorn and so cold? And if he was not mistaken, she wasn't much older than he. Ico rushed over to the iron railing of the staircase and called out, "Hello? Can you hear me?" When the girl made no response whatsoever, he continued, "Hold on. I will get you down."

Again, the girl made little response, though she lifted her head slightly to look at him with bleary eyes. Ico looked around for some way to get the cage to the ground without simply letting it fall and break open. Somehow, he simply _had_ to set her free. The thought of another living being trapped in this awful place stabbed at his heart. He easily recalled the frantic fear he had felt when his coffin had closed around him, and thought it must be similarly frightening to be trapped in a little cage hardly big enough to lie down in; to be able to look about at the tower outside, yet to be forever suspended in midair, unable to even touch the stones all about. And this girl looked so lonely and miserable! He longed to simply hug her and make her happy. So he cast his gaze about for some way to free her.

He had indeed made it to a landing at the top of the tower, and could even see where the cage's chain was attached to the ceiling. It was fed through many little wheels and gears in such a confusing tangle that Ico could not understand it. Yet he followed the chain with his eyes to where it entered a little box with a lever next to a great, barred door. The door and the lever were on the same landing Ico stood on, but part of the stone had crumbled away, leaving a gap in the middle too large to jump across. Ico looked up and saw that large windows ringed the top of the tower, broken windows with the tattered remains of curtains fluttering feebly in the cold sea breeze that came in with the early morning sunlight. He was standing directly beneath one, and there was another window above the lever. If he could somehow... Ico jumped up and grabbed onto the windowsill, heaving himself up and swinging his legs over the side with youthful energy.

There was a large balcony running around the outside of the tower directly beneath the windows, and it seemed to be intact, so he dropped down onto it. He wandered over to the railing and squinted out at the surrounding landscape. Dismay filled him as he saw the waters of the bay stretching out all around. He could see the far shore, the cliffs covered with lush trees, but he knew it was only folly to suppose that he could swim all that distance, avoid being dashed against the rocks on the cliffside, and climb all the way up them to safety. He would simply have to find another way. Yet the sight of the lush forest, the trees swaying in the wind, awakened in him anew the longing to be out of this ruinous castle once and for all. To be free...but that reminded him of the girl. He couldn't simply leave her sitting in that cage for the rest of her life! He had to at least get her out of there and ask her name. Ico reluctantly turned away from the beckoning view of the far cliffs and heaved himself up through the other window.

He jumped down onto the landing beside the lever and glanced at the girl in the cage, who had not moved from her morose position. Ico frowned and tried to pull the lever, but it wouldn't budge; it was rusted fast. He heaved and strained, until at last it gave way with a shriek of old metal. Ico ran a hand across his sweaty forehead and turned to look at the cage. The chain was already playing out, letting the cage down gently towards the ground far below. The girl finally moved, leaping to her feet in fright – or excitement, Ico couldn't tell which. But the cage soon fell out of sight (though he could still hear the chain clinking and squeaking far below him), and Ico hurried back through the windows to the stairs. He walked as fast as he could without running, his head spinning dizzily as he went round, round, round down the stairs. The hand he trailed across the stone wall was the only thing that guided him downwards.

When Ico reached the bottom landing and regained his breath, he saw that the cage had come to a halt a few feet above a little circle etched into the floor that Ico had not noticed before. _The chain probably got stuck,_ he decided. The sunlight from the windows didn't reach down this far, but several torches sputtered from the walls. The girl, even more luminous in the absence of sunlight, watched him expectantly. Ico suddenly noticed a thin ledge running in between the spikes along the top of the wall that cut the tower's floor in half and ran behind and slightly above the cage. This ledge began on the very landing he stood on, so Ico inched onto it, pressing his body against the cold stones and grasping one of the spikes on top of the wall. It wasn't a very long drop to the ground, but it would certainly hurt if he fell off. He carefully inched along the ledge, clutching the spikes as though they were his last hope for survival.

After what seemed an eternity, he came to the middle of the wall and glanced over his shoulder. He was now directly above the girl's cage. Gauging the distance carefully, he leapt off the ledge and fell feet-first on top of it. His extra weight broke the old, weak chain links, sending the cage crashing to the floor. The barred door swung open with a clatter as Ico toppled onto the ground. He bit his lip hard to keep from crying out and pushed himself up on his elbows. The girl slowly stepped out of the cage, looking around her with wide eyes, as though she had not been out of her cage for a long time – years, even. Slowly she turned to Ico, who remained transfixed on the floor. Her pale lips parted in surprise, and a breathy voice asked in what was almost a whisper, "_Ele tanta? Koza mete to ta?_"

Ico blinked in surprise, wondering for a moment whether this girl had gone mad from living in that cage for so long. But no...somehow, he knew she was quite sane. Obviously, she must come from some other place, another country perhaps, where they spoke a different language from Ico's. Maybe in that country she had lived in a village just like his... He had no idea who she was or what she had said, but he tried his best to explain who he was. "They...They tried to sacrifice me, because I have horns. Kids with horns are brought here." Suddenly, he had an inkling as to why she had been locked up like that. "Were they trying to sacrifice you too?"

But this girl obviously could understand nothing of what he said. She stared at him with an innocent, almost baby-like expression of curiosity. Squatting down in front of the boy still sprawled out on the floor, she slowly reached out a finger towards his face. Ico sucked in his breath, watching that glowing finger come closer and closer to his cheek. He wasn't exactly afraid of this peaceful-looking girl, yet his heart was thumping as wildly as if she was throttling him instead. Her fingertip touched him at last, and he started as he felt a shock run all the way through him. Her finger was ice-cold, yet strangely comfortable against his cheek. He slowly lifted his eyes to her face, and her violet eyes locked into his. A strange bond of understanding passed between them as they stared into each other's eyes, and he suddenly realized that he knew her name.

"Yorda," he murmured with surprise. How did he know her name? Was this some kind of magic? "Your name's Yorda."

"_Ico,_" she whispered in response. "_Ico._"

Suddenly, a hand made of black shadows grabbed the girl's still outstretched arm, and another shadowy arm wrapped around her waist. A thing made of darkness, its form only vaguely humanoid, hoisted her up and slung her over its shoulder. Yorda gasped, but seemed too weak to break the hold the shadow thing kept on her. Ignoring Ico, the creature of darkness laboriously turned around and began walking towards a pooling mass of shadows like the one Ico had seen in his dream.

Ico pushed himself desperately to his feet, limbs shaking all over with immense fear. He remembered the shadow that had grown up behind him in the dream and sucked him in. He couldn't let something like that happen to this girl he had just met! He cast his eyes about, and saw a long stick of wood that had fallen from a brazier in the wall. Grabbing it and gripping it as hard as he could, he charged towards the retreating shadow with a yell. As he ran, he saw the shadow thing sink into the pool of blackness, pulling Yorda with it. She clutched at the stones of the floor and tried to pull herself back out, but her white arms were much too weak, the shadow much too strong. Her head sank under the darkness as Ico came near, one last whispered plea leaving her lips.

Ico slid to a halt on his knees by the pool of shadows, dropping his useless stick of wood and lunging for her hand, the only bit of white that still showed above the surface. He grasped her hand and felt a weak pulse of some strange kind of energy pass into him, as when she had touched his cheek. He heaved at her hand with all his might, grabbing her wrist with his other hand and digging his heels into the floor. At first, the shadows resisted, trying to keep her back, but then they suddenly released her, and Ico easily pulled the glowing girl back out of the darkness. She collapsed onto the ground next to him, panting. Ico stood up and helped her to her feet, wiping his forehead.

Glancing nervously at the shadows that still pooled out of the portal, Ico asked, "What was that creature that came after you?"

Yorda merely gave a weak cough and looked at him blankly, shifting her position a few inches farther away from the portal.

Ico shuddered and took Yorda's hand in his own, feeling again that strange current pass between them. He looked into her violet eyes, willing her to understand. "It's too dangerous for us to be here. We should find a way out."

Again, Yorda did not seem to understand, but Ico was distracted as the portal frothed with even more shadow, like a baleful cauldron boiling over. He grabbed the stick again and backed away from it, pulling Yorda with him, then turned to run away. Dismay filled him as he found his way blocked by the four statues he had seen before. They were trapped. There was nowhere to go except the tower or the crypt. Yet as Yorda stumbled to his side, a blinding white-blue light poured out of her chest and struck the statues. Ico gasped; it was the same as the riders' magical blade. Just as they had then, these statues moved to either side, revealing a doorway behind them. The lightning, or power, or whatever it was, shot out a few tendrils behind them at the shadow portal, and then sunk back into Yorda's chest. Ico glanced back at the portal and saw that it had disappeared. "How did you do that?" he asked in amazement, but she was examining her chest with a surprised expression, as though she hadn't known she possessed this strange power either.

"Come on," Ico said, leading her through the doorway. She followed him as willingly as a dog follows its master, stumbling slightly on the stones. Ico glanced at her one more time and clutched her cold hand a bit tighter. Yes. He would escape this cold prison, and he would bring Yorda with him. Together, they would survive somehow and escape.

**The title for this chapter offers a parallel between the two characters that we have met so far. In the first chapter ("Him"), Ico was imprisoned, yet managed to get free. In this chapter ("Her"), Yorda was imprisoned, but Ico managed to secure her release. And now you have begun to see the structure this story will take, the drive that will carry it on to the end. Please leave a review if you've read this far.**


	3. Bond

Author's Note: Many thanks to Gelendra and DevLeigh for your reviews! You know I appreciate them. If anyone else is reading this, please review and tell me what you think of it!

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Chapter Three – Bond

Directly outside the tower, the new friends found themselves on one side of a bridge connecting two sections of the castle. Ico remembered this bridge from when he had sailed in with the riders; they had sailed right under it. It was suspended hundreds of yards above the crashing waves, a thin strand of stone that somehow seemed as flimsy as a blade of grass. But there was nowhere else to go, so Ico began to cross, pulling Yorda along with him. Her cold hand was limp in his, as though she were either reluctant to come with him, or had given up all hope that they could succeed. Then Ico wondered if she had even understood his intent in the first place. For all she knew, he could be taking her to a new prison! Ico wondered how he could better explain himself, but he decided his good intentions would have to be displayed through his actions.

Just as he thought this, he felt a tremor beneath his feet. The old stone of the bridge began to crumble away, falling down into the sea far, far below. Ico cried out and threw himself to the other side of the bridge, where the stone still held solid. He looked back anxiously for Yorda; she clung onto the edge of the broken bridge, dangling by her fingertips. Ico hurried to her, grabbing her arms and heaving her back up. He let out a sigh of relief, checking to see if she had been hurt anywhere. Yorda stared wide-eyed at the break in the bridge and the hungry waves splashing far beneath her. Then she turned to look at Ico, and they stared at each other for several long moments. Yorda reached for his hand and held it tightly. Ico felt the shiver of power coming from her grip, and gripped her hand tightly as well. The children crossed the remainder of the bridge in the same solemn silence, and passed through the door into the castle beyond.

There was a little room in the tower at the end of the bridge, with a high ceiling, beautiful amber-colored windows, and flagged stone walls and floor. A large steel crate stood in the center of the room, directly in the pattern of sunlight streaming from the windows onto the floor. As the two children stepped into the room, Ico heard a strange sound, like a low moan nearly too low to be heard by human ears. It was a very sad sound, yet somehow equally terrifying. A cold shiver passed through him, the hairs rising on the back of his neck and his insides clenching. Ico glanced at Yorda, who stared at her feet in fear and dismay.

A black portal sprouted up from the stones of the floor at the other end of the room, and Ico saw the gangly arms of a shadowy spirit fold awkwardly out of it, the large spirit slowly clambering out of the darkness. Ico gazed at it in fear for a moment, at the cold bluish-white orbs in place of eyes, and at the bits of shadow sprouting from its head like horns. Yet as the spirit advanced towards Yorda, another one following it closely, Ico took his hand from Yorda's and clutched the stick of wood that he had carried with him. Unsure of how much use it would be against things not of flesh, Ico swung the stick with a yell, stepping in between the spirit and Yorda.

Ico was a little surprised when his stick met the spirit with a sharp crack. The spirit stumbled back a bit, and Ico swung his stick again. Again and again his stick cracked loudly against the spirit, and Ico slowly pushed the spirit farther and father back. At last the spirit tripped and fell onto the ground, its glowing eyes fading away and its dark body disappearing in a puff of dark smoke. Ico let out a sigh of relief, but suddenly he heard Yorda gasp behind him. Whirling around, he saw that another spirit had picked up Yorda and thrown her over its shoulder just as the spirit in the previous tower had. Yorda looked imploringly at Ico as the spirit hurried towards the portal. Ico yelled once again, rushing at the spirit and hitting it with all his might. The spirit stumbled and fell to the ground, dropping Yorda. The girl did not appear to be hurt, and scrambled back away from the spirit as fast as she could on hands and knees. Ico angrily swatted at the spirit, until it too disappeared in a puff of smoke. Panting, Ico looked over at the shadow portal and saw it dissipating in a puff of smoke.

He sank to the floor, relief sweeping through him as the clenching cold and the eerie, nearly inaudible sound disappeared. Yorda stepped up to him, looking as though she wanted to say something. Then she seemed to remember that he would most likely not understand, and contented herself with looking apologetic.

"It's okay," Ico said, getting back to his feet. "I'm not going to let them take you, so you do not have to worry."

Yorda stared at him in confusion, so Ico took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, hoping she would understand somehow. Yorda, still looking confused, turned back to survey the room. Ico immediately saw that there was no way out of this room, and his heart sank in dismay. Would their hopeful little quest end so soon after its conception? They might as well have let the spirits take them.

Ico suddenly realized that Yorda had slipped from his side and was standing next to the large metal crate, looking at it thoughtfully. She touched it lightly with one glowing finger, then her face lit up and she turned excitedly to Ico. Ico strode up beside her, looking at the crate in confusion. Yorda pressed her hand against it and looked at him, as if trying to tell him something. Ico scratched his head and wished they could speak the same language. Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned against the side of the crate and heaved. The crate seemed to be hollow and empty, and it moved easily under his touch. Ico pushed it halfway across the room, not sure what he was expecting to happen, when Yorda gave an airy little gasp. Ico whirled around, stick at the ready, and then froze in surprise himself. At the other end of the room, the stones of the floor were rising smoothly upwards, making a sort of staircase up to the top of the room and out of sight. When they at last settled to a stop, Ico looked down at the section where the crate had rested before he moved it, and saw that the stone it had sat on had risen slightly. Somehow, moving the crate had started the mechanism to create these stairs.

Ico looked with a new respect at his companion. She looked slightly dazed and confused, staring up at the stairs, and Ico wasn't sure if she had known what would happen or not. He shrugged his shoulders again and, taking Yorda's hand once more, started up the stairs.

They led up through the ceiling of the tower room, and the two children stepped out onto the roof of the tower. The stones were bathed in the slanting rays of the morning sunlight, and from their vantage point the children could see all the way to the far cliffs on the other side of the bay that made the castle's moat. Ico looked over the side of the tower and saw, far below them, a set of rails running along the outside of the castle. The rail was held up above the water by tall pillars and columns, making it more like a bridge than anything else. A metal ladder was attached to the outside wall of the tower, leading down to a small stone balcony next to the rail.

Ico could see that there was no other way down from this tower, so he started down the ladder. After a moment or two, however, he realized that Yorda was standing above him, looking over the edge in confusion. "Come on!" Ico called up to her, but she looked hesitant. "It's all right," he tried to assure her. "I will not let you fall."

He wasn't sure if that was what convinced her or not, but Yorda started down the ladder, carefully setting her bare feet on each rung and slowly descending. Ico forced himself not to look down, and climbed steadily downwards until his feet touched the balcony. As he waited for Yorda to join him, he examined the odd rail that ran around a corner of the castle. Following the rail with his eyes to the left, he saw that several yards away the rail had broken and fallen down into the sea. Directly before the breakoff point was a small cart with wheels fitted to the tracks. Ico carefully stepped onto the wooden crosspieces and made his way down the track to the cart, motioning for Yorda to stay where she was.

It was a small cart, just large enough for two children to stand on, with a lever sticking straight up at one end. When Ico clambered up onto the cart and took the lever in both hands, he realized that one wrong move could send him hurtling down to the sea far, far below. Ico gulped, closed his eyes, and pulled the lever towards himself. The lever was rusty and shrieked with protest, but the wheels obediently began to turn. To his relief, the cart moved back along the track to the little balcony where Yorda was waiting for him. Ico beckoned her onto the cart, and she climbed a little clumsily up behind him.

Ico tugged on the lever once more, and the cart rolled along the track around the corner of the castle. He looked around curiously at the structures of the castle as they rolled past. It seemed they were travelling from one of the small islands the castle was built on to another, and Ico thought this island was slightly closer to the far cliffs. Perhaps he only wished this were so.

Suddenly the cart lurched to a stop, nearly throwing Ico off into the water far below. Yorda clutched onto the back of his shirt, gasping and nearly dragging him to the ground. Looking back to see what was wrong, Ico's heart froze in terror. A huge spirit, hunchbacked and deformed, was tugging Yorda inexorably backwards by the ankles. Yorda's grip on Ico's shirt was weakening, as though the shadow touching her flesh was sapping all the strength from her limbs. Ico desperately slammed the lever in the opposite direction than before, and the cart crashed into the spirit, loosening its hold on Yorda. Ico ran the cart into it again, and knocked the spirit off the rail. He and Yorda watched it fall down to the pounding waves far below, but the spirit made no splash in the water. Shuddering, Ico sent the cart rolling along the rail again, but this time he also kept a firm grip on Yorda's arm.

Then the cart banged into a wall at the end of the track, and their ride was over. Ico helped Yorda clamber up onto a stone shelf that ran along the side of the wall to their left and peeked down over the other side to see nothing but water a long, long way down. For a moment, he felt dizzy from the sheer height of this castle, but then he clenched Yorda's hand in his own and turned away from the edge. The two children continued on to the end of the stone shelf, where a huge metal box, as tall as a house, hung from a stout iron chain suspended over the vast stretch of thin air to the water down below. It was close to the edge of the shelf, just barely close enough to jump to...maybe. He wasn't sure what he could accomplish if he jumped onto it, but there was nowhere else to go.

Ico let go of Yorda, stepped back a few paces, and took the jump at a run. The edge of the metal box met his stomach, and in his surprise he nearly slipped off. Gripping the edge tightly, he hoisted himself up and onto the top. He lay flat on the cold metal for a while, trying to catch his breath and rid himself of his vertigo as the box swayed a little in the air. But the metal was very cold in the shadow of the castle, and it was very uncomfortable to simply lie inactive on it; he carefully pushed himself back to his feet after a few moments. He could see Yorda, pale and uncertain, standing on the stone shelf and watching him. She was frowning a little, as though unsure of whether it would be safe for her to follow him or not.

"Come on, Yorda," he called to her, standing as close to the edge as he dared. He reached out a hand to her, nodding encouragingly when she stepped tentatively forward, not stopping to realize how dangerous this was. "I will catch you; don't worry!"

Yorda backed up slightly, having seen Ico do this, and rushed forward with a little leap. Her cool hand fell into his as she fell short of the metal box, and her weight pulled Ico to his knees, causing the box to teeter again. For a moment, Yorda dangled beneath him, swinging slightly and holding onto him tightly with one hand. Then he grabbed her wrist with his other hand and heaved her up onto the box as well. She was rather light, but Ico had broken out in a sweat. To think that, with one small slip, he could have lost her! It was too horrible to contemplate, so Ico looked around them instead.

They were suspended hundreds of feet above the churning waves below, the stone shelf on one side of the box and a sort of round flat-roofed tower on the other, close to a wall of the castle. A small bridge-like protrusion connected the top of the tower to a door in the wall. A winding staircase clung to the outside of the tower, circling down to what seemed to be another bridge adjoined to a second doorway directly beneath the first. The tower was a little farther away from the metal box than the stone shelf had been, but Ico thought he could make it.

As before, Ico took a running start and leapt across the gap to the tower. His hands slapped onto the stone edge, smarting horribly; he clung to the edge with his fingertips and swung his legs up and over the edge. Then he turned back for Yorda. Calling her name, he held out a hand to her. This time she jumped across almost immediately with a very trusting look on her face, her white fingers reaching across to meet his. Once again, Ico's arm was tugged downwards as she fell short of the tower. The jolt of her touch made his palms tingle, and he hastily pulled her up with him before the tickling on his palms made him drop her. Ico nodded to Yorda, and they made for the door.

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In this chapter, we have seen the foundation for the bond between Ico and Yorda. Thus, the title. 


	4. Boom

Thank you for your continued support and reviews XD

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Chapter Four – Boom

As Ico led Yorda through the door, his mouth dropped in amazement. So far, they had only seen ancient, ruined walls and crumbling towers, but the great hall they now entered was almost entirely intact. Of the two levels that made up the room, Ico and Yorda were on the top one. The floor on the lower level of the hall was broken across the middle, breaking off into a dark chasm which seemed to have no bottom. Beginning at Ico and Yorda's feet was a long stone bridge spanning this chasm, held up only by two wooden support beams beneath it, one on each side of the chasm. The bridge led across the room to an open doorway on the other side through which spilled bright morning sunlight. A thin balcony ran around the walls at the same level as the bridge, and large, dusty windows made of real glass gazed across at Ico and Yorda from the far wall.

Together, the two children crossed the bridge and passed through the doorway on the other side. Blinking in the bright light, Ico looked around and saw to his dismay that this was merely a balcony overlooking a large courtyard. There were no stairs or any way to get down to the courtyard below, so he was forced to lead Yorda back inside the hall and across the bridge again.

Ico wandered glumly to the stone railing at the edge of the balcony and looked over the side. He could see, on the lower level of the room underneath the door that led to the balcony, another of the strange statue-doors that only Yorda could open. But how to get there?

It was only then that Ico thought of looking up. Three huge chandeliers, each consisting of three rings of candles, hung on stout chains from the ceiling far above him. To his amazement, he could make out tiny flickering pinpricks of light on the candles. _How can anyone manage to climb up there to light them?_ he wondered in awe. He followed a line downwards from the largest chandelier, the one in the middle, with his eyes and saw that it was directly above the middle of the stone bridge. He looked up at the ceiling again and saw that wooden beams crisscrossed about the chandeliers, and that one of the beams ran very close to the far wall with the windows. As he looked from the bridge to the chandelier and back again, an idea slowly formed in his mind.

"Wait here!" Ico called to Yorda as he set off across the bridge at a run. He reached the far side of the bridge and turned to the windows. Each window had a sill that he thought looked just barely wide enough to fit a foot on. He hoisted himself up onto the lowest windowsill, pressing his body against the dusty glass to keep from falling off the narrow ledge. By standing on the tips of his toes, he could just barely reach the next windowsill. Huffing and panting, he made his way up the windowsills till he got to the top window, close to the ceiling. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the wooden beam, and bravely took a wild leap backwards.

His chest crashed into the beam and he grasped the wood with his arms before he could fall off, thankful that the wood didn't seem to be rotting yet. Hoisting one leg up and over the beam, he waited to catch his breath and cautiously got to his feet on the narrow beam. Holding his arms out to keep his balance, Ico slowly inched along the beam until it met another beam running perpendicular to it. Biting his lip to keep back a whimper of fright, he turned onto this beam and continued his slow, cautious progress. He only stopped when he was over the large chandelier, and then he carefully sat down on the beam, hanging his legs over the side, to catch his breath again and still his racing heart.

_I don't like this, _Ico cried to himself, squeezing his eyes shut, _not one bit! _He had never been particularly frightened of heights, but this was ridiculous! It hadn't seemed so high up when he had formulated this plan. But Ico knew he had to do this; he could see no alternative, other than giving up. But Ico _refused_ to give up!

After a few moments, Ico opened his eyes once more and steeled himself for what he knew he had to do. He just hoped it would work. Just as he had with Yorda's cage, Ico carefully gauged the distance and threw himself off the wooden beam, landing heavily on the chandelier below. His sandalled feet hit the tarnished silver of the huge light, and the entire chandelier swayed alarmingly. Ico grabbed the chain to keep upright, his stick slipping out of his hand, but just at that moment the chain broke and the chandelier hurtled downward.

Ico gasped in fear and gazed down between his feet at the stone bridge growing larger and larger beneath him. With an almighty crash, the chandelier hit the bridge and began to roll over the side. Ico yelled when he realized the chandelier was beginning to break, and cast a frightened look over his shoulder. Yorda, wondering what had happened to him, had wandered out to the middle of the bridge and now watched him falling down with the giant chandelier. "No, Yorda!" Ico screamed, throwing out a warning hand to her, as he fell away from her confused face. "Go back!"

Yorda, hearing her name and seeing his outstretched hand, seemed to think he had told her to jump, and threw herself trustingly off the bridge. Ico grabbed her hand as she fell after him, and pulled her onto the chandelier with a groan of despair. He was glad Yorda trusted him so much, but it was a long way down that chasm and they were surely hurtling to their deaths. Just as Ico thought this, the chandelier hit the very edge of the chasm with a resounding clang. One of the three rings that made up the chandelier spun off into the air; another fell down into the darkness below; but the one on which Ico and Yorda crouched bounced over the lip of the chasm and spun to a stop on the floor of the lower level of the hall. Directly behind them was a door, and across the chasm were the statue-doors. They hadn't fallen to their deaths, but neither did they seem to be any closer to their goal.

For a few moments, Ico could only sit there in shock, tangled up in the ring of metal, listening to the fading crashes of the chandelier falling away into the darkness. Then all was silent. Ico let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and clambered out of the metal ring of candles that had saved their lives. He helped Yorda hop out, and looked around them. Mashed stubs of candles had been strewn all over, but a few still remained in their holders, and miraculously they were still lit. Stacked in one corner were strange black bulbuous things that looked somewhat like huge black tomatoes with oiled wicks, and a bundle of long, sturdy sticks. Ico realized he had dropped his own stick sometime in this latest adventure, and was happy to feel the comforting weight of a weapon in his hand again.

Ico turned to see if his daring escapade with the chandelier had caused any damage whatsoever to the bridge. Sure enough, the wooden support beam on this side of the chasm had a huge crack running diagonally through it, and the beam looked slightly bent. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but he thought he saw a crack running right through the stone at the far end of the bridge. He turned to see what Yorda was doing, and found that she was poking the flame of one of the lit candles, running her finger through it fast enough that her finger didn't burn. This gave Ico another idea, one that he hoped would prove a bit less dangerous than his last one.

He wandered over to one of the large bulbuous things and found he could just barely lift it into his arms and carry it. Satisfied, Ico hoisted the large object into his arms and carried it awkwardly over to the cracked support beam. The object was about three times the size of his head, and immensely heavy. He wondered what it was made of as he dropped it at last at the foot of the support beam. Wiping his forehead of sweat, he picked up his stick and lit it in the flame of one of the candles. He lit the black object's wick with his flaming brand, dropped his stick, and ran for cover. He grabbed Yorda by the wrist and pulled her into the corner, not sure what exactly would happen when the wick was all burned up. He turned to watch the flame disappear into the black object, and suddenly there was a thunderous _BOOOM_ that echoed all throughout the hall. The black object exploded in a thick, inky-black cloud of some acrid-smelling powder. With the explosion, the lower part of the support beam was thrown violently against the far wall, and the stone bridge slowly tipped downward. It connected with the far side with a loud crunch, the very end breaking off. The bridge slipped a little and then settled into silence.

Once more, Ico was awestruck at what he had done. He gazed at his handiwork, at the bridge slanting down from the door up above to the door across the chasm. He had done it! The way was clear! Ico got to his feet, brushed himself off, and selected another stick to use since his old one was burnt. Then he grasped Yorda's hand tightly in his own, feeling the familiar twinge of the current that ran through her. He led her back through the door next to them, up the stairs on the side of the tower outside, and back through the door on the upper level of the hall.

Ico expected the short journey across the broken, slanting bridge to be quick and uneventful, but that was not to be. They had barely stepped onto the bridge when he felt a chill in his bones and heard a barely-audible sound that was becoming familiar. Yorda's hand tightened about his own, and he whipped his head around to find where the spirits were coming from. Suddenly, a huge, hump-backed spirit rose up behind him and clouted him about the ears with all the strength of a raging bull. Ico let out a cry of pain and flew several feet before his shoulder crashed into the stone railing of the bridge below Yorda. The huge spirit made no delay in picking Yorda up and slinging her over his shoulder. She looked pleadingly at Ico, who clutched his shoulder and gritted his teeth in pain. Ico gave a yell of rage, struggling back onto his feet and gripping his stick tightly. He raced up to the spirit, who stupidly tried to run past him. Gripping his stick with both hands, Ico swung his stick around and hit the spirit in the midriff with a resounding crack. The spirit recoiled, and Ico pressed his advantage with another swift blow. To his horror, the spirit stumbled back against the railing and dropped Yorda – right over the edge!

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Haha, cliff hanger. I think the reason for this chapter's title is self-explanatory. 


	5. Shadows

Author's Note: This chapter contains possibly my best battle to date. I tried to make it exciting. Enjoy, and review please!

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Chapter Five - Shadows

"Yorda!" Ico screamed, racing over to the edge of the slanting stone bridge. His eyes desperately followed the falling speck of white, so stark against the blackness of the chasm. Yorda fell down, down, neither crying nor screaming, only letting out her breathy little cry for help. Just when he thought she was lost forever, two spirits with shadowy wings sprouting from their shoulders soared up out of the chasm. One caught Yorda in its spindly arms, and soared toward the corner to the right of the lower end of the bridge, near the statue-doors, where one of their portals had sprung up.

Ico was relieved that Yorda had not fallen to her death, but he knew that he had precious little time to waste. Just as he was turning to race down the bridge, a shadowy arm struck out from behind him and he crashed to the floor again. Before he could even acknowledge the pain, he was on his feet again. Yelling a battle cry, Ico repeatedly struck the spirit that had struck him until it fell to the stones of the bridge, disappearing before his eyes. Ico raced pell-mell down the bridge, watching helplessly from afar as the spirit sank down into the portal with Yorda. The luminous girl, not about to give up now, grasped desperately at the cracked stones and tried to pull herself out. But she was too weak, and the shadow seemed to be sapping what little strength she had.

The horned boy who raced to her rescue suddenly tripped over a loose stone, landed heavily on his palms, and rolled the rest of the way down the bridge. He scrambled to his feet, racing desperately towards the shadow portal and Yorda's disappearing face. His knees crashed onto the ground and he grabbed Yorda's outstretched hand, pulling with all his might till she spilled out onto the floor. The second winged spirit had been hovering overhead, and now dove down to capture Yorda again. Ico met it head-on with his stick, smiting it onto the floor and beating it until it was nothing but a puff of smoke. The portal slowly sank into the stones and the cold of the spirits went with it.

Ico sighed with relief and licked his bleeding lip. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he gingerly felt his scraped palms and examined the left knee of his breeches, which had been torn in his mad scramble to save Yorda. None of these were serious wounds, but they drove home how difficult it was going to be to escape this dreadful prison. Still, he was determined to escape – no matter the cost – and turned resolutely to the statue-doors.

Yorda stepped up beside him, and the dazzling white power shot out of her again. The white light scattered to every recess in the statues till they glowed as if alive, and inched away from each other, revealing the doorway behind them. Yet this time, another thing happened as the magic poured out of Yorda's chest. Ico's torn lip closed, stemming the flow of blood and healing completely. The skin of his palms knitted together till his hands were as soft as a baby's, and even the aches and pains of being thrown about by the spirits disappeared. When the magic sank back into Yorda's chest, Ico gazed at his companion with a new wonder. She looked just as surprised and amazed as he when she saw that all his cuts and bruises were gone. Ico almost felt like laughing when he realized that she had no idea whatsoever of her powers.

"Let's go, then," he said softly, taking her hand and feeling the familiar tingle. Together, they stepped out of the magnificent hall and into the bright sunlight beyond.

Once again, Ico found his mouth drop open in amazement. He and Yorda stood on a balcony in a huge courtyard surrounded by walls taller than a house. Ico's entire village could have fit easily within these walls. Wide stone steps led down to the flagged stones of the courtyard floor. Flanking the steps at the top and bottom were large torches decorated with menacing spikes. To their right was a pile of the exploding black balls, and the end at the left was blocked off by wooden planks. Up above the balcony they stood on was another balcony, the one that could be seen through the other doorway in the hall with the chandeliers.

Two great wooden drawbridges hung upright from the upper balcony, and Ico could see the other halves of these bridges drawn up on the other side of the courtyard, high above them. At the end of the courtyard opposite Ico and Yorda, there was yet another statue-door. Most of the courtyard was completely empty except for tufts of grass poking up between the stones of the floor. All they would have to do this time was go up to the statue-door, and Yorda would open it for them.

Relieved that for once their path was clear, Ico took one step forward only to hear Yorda's plaintive little gasp. He whirled around, stick held high, and saw that a spirit had risen up behind him and grabbed Yorda. As Ico struck the spirit again and again, he felt the chilling cold of the spirits invading his body with greater force than ever before. He could sense a dozen spirits crowding up behind him, but before he could even turn around, they had knocked him to the floor. He pushed himself up on his elbows soon enough to see a winged spirit grab Yorda and take off into the air. He let out a yell and tried to leap to his feet, but a huge humpbacked spirit thrust him back onto the floor.

Ico frantically lashed out with his stick at the spirits' feet that crowded around him. He managed to topple a few, and the rest leapt back in fright. Ico bellowed like a bull as he rose to his knees, swinging his stick in a wild circle about him, forcing the spirits back even farther. As soon as he was on his feet again, he charged out of the circle of spirits that had crowded around him and raced down the great stone steps into the courtyard.

"Yorda!" he screamed, looking around frantically as he tried to keep ahead of the spirits who chased after him. After several frenzied moments of searching, he saw a white figure being pulled into a shadow portal in the far corner of the courtyard. "Yorda!" he screamed again, putting on a burst of speed and praying he would make it in time.

He very nearly didn't, and as he tugged on Yorda's arm he realized just how many close calls they had suffered. It seemed that every time the spirits showed up, they nearly suceeded in snatching Yorda away. Ico promised himself to be extra careful from now on, for he could see now that he had no hope of survival without this girl. Without her, he couldn't open the statue-doors, and he would be stuck in this horrible place forever. Yorda clutched at him weakly when he had pulled her out of the portal at last, and he gripped her hand tightly. "Stay close to me!" he cried.

The spirits had followed as fast as they could on their shadowy, insubstantial legs, and as Ico turned back to face them, he swung his stick into the face of the foremost spirit. It fell to the ground, but another spirit was directly behind it, and when Ico had knocked it down another was there to take its place. No matter how many spirits he felled, more kept on charging towards him. More spirits than ever before... Why were there so many this time? Was it because the children had so long evaded their clutches? Or perhaps...just perhaps...they were guarding something. Something important.

But Ico had no way of knowing, and he was much too busy fighting back the hordes of spirits to puzzle it out. He swung his stick back and forth, wood meeting shadow with sharp cracks, and Yorda clung to the sacrificial cloth draped over his shirt. Sweat began to bead Ico's forehead and his breath came in short gasps. His arms ached from swinging his stick, and the oppressive chill that poured from these spirits slowly ate away at his strength. He realized that if they remained where they were, the spirits would trample them.

Gathering up his strength, Ico grabbed Yorda tightly by the wrist, lowered his head so his horns were pointing forward, and charged. He felt the crunch of shadow-flesh against his horns as he ploughed through the mass of spirits, until at last he broke through. He lifted his head and ran with all his might towards the statue-doors, hearing the rustling of dozens of spirits rushing up behind him. He could see more winged ones swoop in over the top of the wall, and he noticed that this time there were many portals dotted all about the courtyard floor.

They were halfway across the courtyard when Yorda's arm was violently jerked out of his grasp. He whirled around just in time to see a winged spirit sink into a nearby portal with Yorda. Ico was there in an instant, grabbing Yorda by the waist before she had even sunk to her knees. He let her drop safely to the floor and abruptly turned to the veritable wall of spirits that were stumbling over each other to get at the children. Ico began swinging his stick at them once more, but within moments they had knocked him flat on his back. He struggled to rise, but they hit him down onto the floor again and again. All he could see was a rustling mass of black limbs lashing out at him, grinding his face against the rough stones of the courtyard floor. He weakly tried to retaliate with his stick, but it was pulled out of his grasp.

As he flailed about helplessly, yelping in pain while the spirits beat him into the floor, the tiny part of Ico that could think began to lose all hope. He couldn't see Yorda, but it was fair to assume that the spirits would leap at this chance to take her with them. Ico had a feeling that she wasn't going to leave his side, even if she somehow managed to keep out of the spirits' grasp. She wouldn't understand him if he yelled at her to run and save herself; she would cower at his side in confusion until these spirits had beaten all the life out of him. His cries became less frequent, his writhings became slow gropings. All he wanted now was to die and end this pain...though a small part of him realized that he could not escape pain even in death, if these spirits pulled him down with them. Just as he felt his elbow hit the stones and break with a crunch, the fingers of his other hand touched something cold... A surge of energy raced up his arm and he found himself leaping to his feet.

His left arm flopping uselessly at his side, limping terribly and clutching Yorda's cold hand in his, Ico stumbled away from the spirits again. Terrible pain shot up his leg every time he put his foot down; his red shirt was even redder from the blood that stained it; and a mixture of blood, dirt, and sweat caked his stinging face. It was all he could do to stagger over to the statue-doors. The spirits seemed to have pushed him closer to the doors in their onslaught, so it was only a matter of a few paces. But every step that Ico took seemed to last an eternity, an eternity of pain and suffering. He fell to the ground next to the statue-doors, shivering and sweating at the same time and wishing he could die.

Yorda let his hand drop to the ground in confusion as he fell to the stone floor, and as soon as she had stepped closer to see what was the matter with him, the white power shot from her chest towards the statues. Tendrils curved back over her shoulder at the spirits who milled about behind them, sending them all back to the oblivion from which they came. At the same time, Ico felt the wonderful, warm magic flow into his own body. His broken bones knit back together, the drops of blood that had spilled onto the stones rushed back into his body, and the broken skin closed once more. Ico found himself rising to his feet with nothing but the memory of his pain. This time, his limbs tingled from the passing of the magical energy, and he wondered if Yorda's magic was affecting him somehow...

He had no time to dwell on this, however, for as soon as the statue-doors had parted and the magic had sunk back into Yorda's chest, she hurried through the doorway with a soft cry. Ico was so surprised that for a moment he could only stand there. This was the first time Yorda had shown any real initiative or eagerness; usually she seemed content to let Ico drag her around. Ico rushed after the luminous girl, fear of the unknown clenching his heart.

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The title for this chapter comes from a song on the soundtrack, called "Shadow." I think it's from later on in the game, where there's a bunch of spirits, so I thought it was fitting here as well. I'm looking forward to the next chapter; the plot moves forward quite a bit in it. 


	6. Encounter

Author's Note: Sorry, this chapter's getting put up a day late. I was busy talking to an old friend, so I kind of forgot XP Anyway, this is a very cool part of the game, so I hope you like this chapter! Please review!

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Chapter Six – Encounter

When Ico hurried through the door, his fear turned to wonder, and gradually to excitement. He and Yorda stood at one end of another enormous courtyard, this one a bit longer and narrower than the last. Fresh green grass carpeted the floor instead of cold stones, and one side of the courtyard was bathed in the golden glow of the sun. Yet what drew the children's eyes was neither the soft grass nor the warm sun. At the end of a long path lined with torches that ran directly down the middle of this high-walled courtyard were two huge stone doors as wide as a house and at least twice as tall. And they were _open._

Ico saw the cliff far away in the distance through the open gate, the same cliff where he and the riders had dismounted to approach the castle. Had it only been earlier that morning? It already seemed to have happened in a separate lifetime. Ico hadn't been the same boy then; somewhere in his adventures with Yorda he had changed. When he left this castle, when he returned to the world outside, he would no longer be the Ico he had been in his village. He wasn't sure what that meant, or whether he was pleased with the change. All he knew was that he could never return to his old life. Not after all he had been through.

Turning to Yorda, he noticed that she stood perfectly still at his side, gazing vaguely out of the gate to the world beyond. He wondered if she was afraid of what was out there, or whether she even understood that things would be different as soon as they left. It struck him suddenly that he had no idea where she had come from in the first place. Perhaps she had a home out there, a family who was worried about her. Well, there was only one way to find out. "Look!" he cried, pointing to the inviting world outside. "The gate is open! Now we can get out of here!"

Yorda looked at him with her usual expression of half-sleepy bewilderment, but she looked to where he was pointing and seemed to get the general gist of what he was saying. Before they could even make one step towards freedom, however, Ico felt a rumbling beneath his feet and looked fearfully at the huge doors. By some invisible mechanism, the mighty doors were slowly grinding closed, shutting out the sea and the cliff and the forest beyond.

"Let's go!" Ico grabbed Yorda's hand and set off at a dead run, pulling Yorda roughly behind him. He could feel her stumbling behind him, tripping and nearly falling several times, but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the closing doors. Though they were halfway shut by now, Ico was sure they would make it. They were nearly there...nearly there...

Suddenly Ico felt Yorda's hand slip from his own. He skidded to a halt, horrified, and whipped around to grab it again. They would lose their chance if they didn't hurry! But he froze in his tracks when he saw why she had stopped. She had sunk to the ground as though pulled back by some force, and now stared almost guiltily at the stone floor. Behind her, a clump of shadow-spirit had appeared in midair, the impenetrable black lined with the same blinding white as Yorda's skin. Unlike the spirit portals that had sprung up before, this ball of shadow was not attached to the floor, and hovered in midair instead. Steadily growing in size, it took on the shape of a woman – not vague, like the spirits that attacked them, but sharp and clearly defined. The blinding white that skittered around at the outside of the figure drew together to form a face: a beautiful face, but a very stern one.

The woman (if woman she was) stood before them as solidly as any human, yet the shadow stuff that made up her enveloping gown and flowing hair moved fluidly around her figure. The shadowy substance only loosely held her form, so she seemed to sway ever so slightly. _Like a ghost,_ Ico thought. The woman's face clashed so strongly with the rest of her body that Ico's eyes were instantly drawn to it, to her deep, dark eyes. Eyes so black they were like tunnels that went on forever – deep pits with no bottom, just like the shadow portals Yorda had so often been pulled into.

She possessed great beauty, a terrible beauty that suggested the power to silence at a glance, to slay entire villages with the slightest flick of her fingers. Ico was entranced yet terrified; he wanted to run far away from her, yet her gaze held him captive. He had never felt so small and pitiful, not even when the riders had loomed over him. There was no need to wonder who she was; that much was obvious: She was the queen, and this was her castle.

So enraptured was he by her sheer presence that Ico hardly noticed when she spoke in Yorda's strange language. He watched her dark lips form the words and shuddered involuntarily as he thought of how his life could be cut off at a whisper. "_Yorda,_" she said in an echoey voice that made Ico's hair stand on end, "_eti ti tiyuihte._"

Yorda made no answer except to hunch her shoulders dejectedly, so the queen turned instead to gaze down her nose at the awe-struck Ico. "So you're the one aimlessly leading my Yorda around," she said, and Ico jumped as he heard his own language spoken. He had grown so used to silence and the occasional strange word from Yorda's language that he had almost forgotten others spoke his tongue as well.

"Do you know who this girl is?" the queen asked with marked disdain. "That girl you are with is my one and only beloved daughter."

Ico gasped and glanced quickly at his luminous friend. Yorda was a princess? She certainly had the beauty and the grace, but all the same...

"Stop wasting your time with her," the queen snapped irritably. "She lives in a different world than some boy with horns. Now, know your place and leave here."

She smirked ever so slightly and disappeared in a flash of black and white magic that left Ico's cheeks stinging as though she had slapped him. Ico waited a moment to be sure she was gone, and rushed to Yorda, who remained in the same position as she had all throughout this one-sided conversation. Ico bent down to look in her face, but he couldn't tell whether her expression was sad or frightened. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, afraid the queen might have hurt her somehow.

Yorda slowly looked up into his face and whispered, "_Nabet...et etastka bes..._"

The queen's voice echoed around the courtyard, but she did not reappear. "_Yorda, edamm arkan? Yuiksabiste yamina neki deki._"

Ico shuddered. He didn't know what the queen had said, but he had a feeling it wasn't altogether pleasant. After once more ascertaining that the queen had gone for good, he held out a hand to Yorda. She looked at his hand for a moment, then followed it up his arm to his face. He couldn't be sure, but he thought her violet eyes became more determined when she saw his face. She grasped his hand, the surge of energy rushing up his arm, and he pulled her to her feet once more.

Shivering, Ico moved to the sunlit half of the courtyard to puzzle over what their next course of action should be. The warmth of the sun was welcome on his chilled skin, and Ico sat down in the soft, warm grass with his back against the warmed stones of the wall. Surely, it couldn't hurt to rest for a few moments. He had been on his feet since early morning, and running and jumping and climbing for most of that time. His tired legs and feet welcomed the rest, and Yorda sank into the grass beside him with a relieved sigh.

Naturally, Ico's thoughts first turned to the queen who had just prevented them from escaping. The huge doors were shut tight now, and it occurred to him that the queen had only been taunting him when she told him to leave. For how could he leave, if the doors were closed? It chilled Ico to think that all this time the queen had been sitting somewhere in the castle, watching their pitiful efforts and most likely shaking with laughter. Like a cat playing with a mouse, the queen was most likely enjoying herself by letting the two children run almost out of her reach and then pulling them back again. She had probably been watching Ico ever since he fell out of his coffin! That was very unnerving to think about, so Ico hastily turned his thoughts aside.

He had no doubt that the queen could easily appear as suddenly as she just had, anywhere at all in the castle. Where would she appear? Where would she stop them next? Might she not be so forgiving next time? Might she...kill them? Ico didn't even need to wonder whether she would kill _him_ if he was too much of a nuisance, but he didn't know whether she would spare her daughter or not. The cruelty in her eyes had struck him from the moment he looked into them. They were the sort of eyes that would not blink if they saw a thousand deaths, all bloody and painful, all deaths of those they knew. Ico gritted his teeth and made a resolution: If they encountered the queen again, he would not hesitate to snatch Yorda away from her.

And speaking of Yorda... He looked down and saw that she had fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder. Ico thought of how she had looked when they first met: so dejected and heartless, curled up in that awful cage at the top of the tower. Why had she been put up there? He wondered if her mother had put her there, but what sort of mother would cage her own daughter? He was beginning to see just how terrible the queen was. It was no wonder Yorda wanted to escape with him; if he had had a mother like that, he would want to run away too.

Yes. They would escape, and Ico would show Yorda the world outside her cage. He had to.

As he gazed at the girl who slept on his shoulder, her fingers curled gently around his crimson sleeve, he considered how, all this time, he had been in the company of a princess. Being the daughter of such a powerful queen, it was no wonder that she had the amazing power to open the statue-doors, destroy the spirits, and heal his wounds all in the same breath. She was a princess, a princess of almost angelic beauty and grace, with a gauzy and ethereal air about her as though she was not entirely of this world. A princess unaccustomed to stumbling about and being dragged around as she was, but a princess all the same. Yet more than that, she was his friend. They had only known each other for a few hours, but those hours had been spent in near-death encounters and dangerous adventures. The two had come to depend on each other; she depended on his firm grip and protection from the spirits, and he depended on her strange magic. They both understood that they could not make it out of here alone, and this knowledge made them inseparable.

At last Ico felt the strength to continue on. He would escape the prison of his destiny. He would escape for Yorda. For his princess.

He touched her lightly on the hand, feeling the familiar shudder of the power that dwelt just under her skin. "Come on, Yorda," he murmured softly. "Wake up. We're going to get out of here."

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I was going to name this chapter "Queen," but I thought that would be too much of a giveaway. "Gate" just sounds boring, so what was left but to call it "Encounter"? This is their first encounter with the Queen, after all. 


	7. Continue

**Author's Note: To all the people who have reviewed so far, thank you! Please review if you're reading this; I want to know what you think of the story.**

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Chapter Seven – Continue

How to continue? As Ico got to his feet and surveyed the courtyard, he felt his resolve begin to slip away. There stood the enormous gate, thick and sound, shutting out the cliffs and the sea. There was no way Ico and Yorda could open it again merely by their own strength, yet he could see no other way to escape their cold prison.

Just as he was thinking this, he was startled by a soft cry. "_Ico!_"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Ico turned to see that Yorda had called his name. It was the first time she had done so since they met, indeed the first time she had ever tried very hard to communicate with him. She stood next to one of the lit torches that lined the path, looking more alert than he had ever seen her. Ico slowly joined her next to the torch, and she looked expectantly back at him. Puzzled, he looked at the torch and wished – not for the first time, nor the last – that they spoke the same language. Yet as he looked closer, as he noted the cruel spikes that surrounded the flames, he couldn't help feeling he had seen torches like this somewhere before...

Of course! Ico cried out, grabbed Yorda's outstretched hand, and ran back through the doorway to the previous courtyard where they had battled the spirits. He came to a stop at the foot of the stairs that led back to the hall with the chandeliers and looked up with triumph at the twin torches that flanked the steps. He had remembered correctly; this courtyard held torches burning just as brightly as those in the other courtyard. Then his gaze wandered over to the exploding balls near the doorway and the boarded-up end of the balcony; his mind began to race. Those boards looked old – old and rotten. Too sturdy to break down with his bare hands, perhaps, but...

Ico let go of Yorda and hefted one of the large black exploding balls over to the boards, lit the wick with the flame from one of the torches, and set it down on the ground. He hurriedly pulled Yorda to the other end of the balcony as the ball exploded with a huge _BANG_ and the boards went flying in every direction. Ico ducked just in time as one went sailing over his head. When the cloud of inky black smoke had cleared, Ico saw to his immense delight that the boards had been covering up a sort of narrow alleyway that curved away out of sight to the left, along the side of the hall with the chandeliers. He picked up one of the shards of wood that seemed to be the right length for him and gripped it tightly in one hand, knowing that he would need a weapon on the path ahead of them. Ico nodded to Yorda, and they started down the alleyway.

The alley turned around two sharp corners and opened out into yet another courtyard, this one on three descending levels connected by wide flights of crumbling stairs. The lower two levels were bathed in sunlight, and grass poked up between the stones of the ground. Long, flat slabs of stone were lined up between the patches of grass, and Ico descended the first set of stairs to inspect one more closely. The stone was worn, and shone white in the sun. He had seen stones like this before, but where? Where had he seen stones all lined up like this? Stones just the length of a man?

Ico cocked his head in thought, when suddenly he realized what they were and shivered a little. Gravestones. Slightly apart from his village, on the crest of a hill that broke above the trees, there were white stones just like this, marking the resting places of the dead. Ico shivered, suddenly cold even in the warm sunlight. Who lay in these graves? Who had been the ancient inhabitants of this castle? Had the queen merely taken over the ruins of this castle, or had she been here at the time of its construction? Had she - Ico gulped at the thought - outlived all the people who had once lived in her castle, seen them all buried, with nothing but the spirits and Yorda to keep her company?

Before he could decide, he heard Yorda gasp behind him, and realized much too late that the chill resting in the marrow of his bones was not simply from morbid fancying. The spirits had returned. Ico whipped around only to find a single spindly, winged spirit making off with Yorda into the sky. "Yorda!" Ico called up to her, and she held out her hand to him with a pleading expression. Ico ran underneath the spirit as it struggled on its shadowy wings. He tripped on the stairs leading up to the highest level, but struggled up them as best he could while still keeping his face turned to the sky. He didn't want to look away even for a moment, for fear that he wouldn't be able to see where the spirit was taking her.

At first he was afraid that the spirit would fly over the wall, but it fluttered onto the stone floor of the highest level of that courtyard instead, diving into a shadow portal that had opened in the ground. Ico called out Yorda's name again, tripping and stumbling in his haste to reach her side. Hadn't he promised himself he would keep a closer watch on her? Yet here she was, sinking beneath the shadows yet again, and all he could do was dive after her, grab her hand, and heave her back out. This time, he had barely grabbed her hand when a thick limb of shadow caught him under the arm and threw him backwards. He kept a firm grip on Yorda's hand, and she was pulled out as he skidded backwards on the stones.

Ico struggled to regain his footing, but a second spirit, taller than a man, clouted him with all its might. Letting out a yell of pain and fear, Ico felt himself hurtling backwards, rolling over and over down the stairs, feeling a sharp pain with each impact. When at last he had reached the middle level, the whole world spun about over his head, and he couldn't move. Pain met him from all sides, and he closed his eyes against it. But he couldn't give up now! Yorda was in danger! The spirits were even now carrying her back over to the shadow portal, and he could hear her soft cry for help...

Before he even knew what he was doing, Ico was on his feet again, taking the stairs two at a time, clutching his blunt weapon with both hands. He briefly saw three of the huge, hump-backed spirits lingering about the portal as another began to sink into it with Yorda slung over one shoulder. But then Ico could see nothing but tufts of black smoke and shadow flying, and all he could hear was his own cries and the loud whacks of wood against spirit. His body seemed to have taken over while his mind was lying on the stones, watching the world spin about him.

A shiver ran up his arm and he blinked to find himself standing over the fading portal, clutching Yorda's hand and panting. Her expression as he looked at her was one of sleepy concern, as though she wondered if he was completely sane. As though the entire battle had only been in his imagination and they had just now entered the courtyard. Ico silently led Yorda down the stairs to the middle landing, glanced apprehensively at the gravestones, and continued to the lowest level. He ached all over, but he told himself it was only a few scrapes and bruises – nothing to worry about.

Ico looked up as they reached the lowest level of the courtyard. The wall directly in front of them bore a door and a balcony above it. The door was closed, however, and Ico could see no immediate means of opening it. He let go of Yorda's hand as he walked slowly up to it, painfully aware of his injuries. Suddenly Yorda gasped, and he spun around to find her stepping backwards, staring at a dark tile in the stone floor. As Ico watched her, Yorda tentatively put one bare foot onto the tile, which sunk down with her weight. Looking interested, she put her other foot onto it as well, and watched the tile sink down about a foot beneath the floor. Apparently delighted, she stepped off it, waited for the tile to rise again, and then jumped back onto it.

Ico found his eyes travelling to an identical dark tile across the courtyard, and cautiously put his foot on it. It, too, sank under his weight, and as Yorda stepped onto her tile, there came a grating sound as the door slid upwards into the wall. Ico let out a cry of excitement and started to run towards the newly opened door, but as soon as his foot left the tile the door slammed back down. Slowly, he realized that both tiles had to be pressed down for the door to open. But if both he and Yorda were standing on the tiles to open the door, how could the two of them go through the door?

Suddenly, Ico's eyes alighted on a metal crate, similar to the one he had seen in the tower across from Yorda's prison so long ago, sitting against one wall. The idea that began to take form in Ico's mind abhorred him, because it would mean leaving Yorda behind. Would there be a way for them to be reunited again, or would they be separated forever? Ico didn't like it, but he knew he had to risk it; he could see no other way to continue. As long as he was able to find a way onto that balcony... Taking a deep breath, Ico made up his mind.

Just as before, he found that the crate was light enough to push across the flagged stone floor, and he slid it onto his tile. It took a while to explain to Yorda that she had to stand on the other tile, and persuade her to stay there while he strode over to the door, but finally Ico made her stay put long enough to slip under the door. He felt a little guilty for leaving her behind like this, and even more guilty when the door slammed shut behind him as Yorda rushed forward to join him. He thought he could hear her confused voice behind the thick wall of stone. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he turned to survey the room he found himself in.

It was a small room, much smaller than he had thought it would be, and rather nondescript. Statue-doors faced him across the room, and a long chain hung from the ceiling, but other than that there wasn't much to look at. He noticed sunlight spilling in from a doorway far above his head, and thought of the high balcony outside, which looked over the entire courtyard. Ico knew what he had to do, but he was not very keen to do it. Still, the longer Yorda was alone out there, the more frightened she would become and the more likely the spirits would come. He took a deep breath, grasped the cold iron links of the chain, and began to climb.

It was a long, arduous climb, with his legs swinging precariously below him and the chain links pinching his palms above his head. Forcing himself not to look down, Ico made his slow but steady way up the chain, till at long last he found himself across from a small ledge which led to the balcony outside through a doorway . He wasn't sure his arms could hold out much longer, but he swung his legs back and forth, swinging steadily closer to the doorway with every swing. He watched the doorway zooming closer and closer, then falling away, until at last he let go of the chain as he swung towards the doorway, and sailed right through it. He hit the stones hard and fell to his knees, but he hastily picked himself up and looked around the balcony.

Ico barely had time to see the metal crate near the edge of the balcony when he heard noises from down below him. He hurried to the edge and peered over. His heart turned cold when he saw Yorda stumbling away from four hulking spirits. She tripped over a loose stone and fell to the ground; the spirits leapt forward eagerly to seize her. Ico rushed at the crate, toppling it over the side of the balcony, and heard a satisfying crunch as it flattened one of the spirits below. Ico looked around hastily, but there was no way down from the balcony. And he couldn't go down the way he had come, either. Gritting his teeth desperately, he threw himself off the edge of the balcony after the crate, yelling and swinging his stick in a wide circle. He felt a crunch, but he knew that this time it wasn't a spirit falling under his blows.

Pain seared up from his ankle, but there was no time to think of that. Ignoring the screams of agony that tore from his own lips as he put weight on his broken ankle, he hobbled over to Yorda, beating the spirits with his stick as he went. Yorda was in a crumpled heap on the floor, but Ico pulled her up and clung to her tightly as he beat back the spirits. Eventually, they had dwindled down to nothing more than smoking heaps of shadow. Ico found that he was leaning heavily on Yorda's shoulder, and she was looking at him with her customary look of sleepy concern.

"I'm sorry," Ico panted, swaying slightly as the pain in his ankle intensified. But there was no time to apologize further, or to reflect on how he hadn't been there to protect her, for more and more spirits were soaring in over the courtyard walls. "Come on!" Ico cried, throwing his weight against the metal crate he had pushed over the side of the balcony. Yorda lingered at his side as he pushed it towards the dark tile, as though wondering whether she should help him or not. Ico wished she would; every other step sent burning agony up his leg, wringing tears out of his eyes and cries of pain out of his throat.

The crate sank down into the floor, and now that both tiles had a crate on them, the door lifted up. Ico didn't wait to catch his breath, for the spirits were advancing on all sides. Staggering and wobbling horribly, half-dragging and half-leaning on Yorda, he ran through the doorway and into the room beyond. Had that room seemed small before? It was such an endless expanse to the statue-doors! The spirits were so close behind them... So far... He wouldn't make it... Suddenly Yorda was jerked backwards and Ico stumbled as his support was pulled from under him.

Whipping around, he saw a spirit pulling on Yorda's arm, pulling her back away with it. "No!" Ico screamed, tearing his throat with his shout and ripping Yorda from the spirit's grip. With a despairing yell, he flung himself at the statue-doors, pulling Yorda along with him. Once again, the white power poured from Yorda's chest, pinning the spirits to the ground and rushing through Ico's body, healing all his wounds. He realized, as he slowly straightened up again on his mended ankle, that all his injuries so far, if put together, would easily have killed him twice over. It was only because of Yorda's healing magic that he was still alive.

He again felt a small shudder run through his body, and fear entered his heart. Yorda was the queen's daughter, was she not? If the queen possessed great magic, magic enough to appear and disappear at will and to command the spirits, should not her daughter possess magic powers just as powerful and terrible? But...Yorda was so unlike her mother. Yorda was gentle. Yorda was his friend. And she had the power to push back the spirits and to heal his wounds. Was this not the opposite of what the queen did? He wasn't sure what to think, but he knew that he trusted Yorda. So he grasped Yorda's cold hand, ignoring the shudder that ran through his skin at her touch, and stepped through the new doorway.

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**The title of this chapter comes from the track on the OST that plays when the "Game Over" screen comes up. Also, I noticed that I'd used the word 'continue' a couple times in the chapter, and I thought it fit the feel of this chapter.**


	8. Respite

**Author's Note: We're nearing the halfway point now. Thanks for your continued reviews! **

**Chapter Eight – Respite**

For once, the two children did not find themselves in another courtyard. Ico let go of Yorda's hand again in wonder; this castle never ceased to amaze him. The doorway had led them right out of the castle, onto the edge of the cliff-like island it was built on. A wide space was covered in grass, and right in the center was a deep pool of crystal-clear water. By the side of this pool a windmill turned slowly in the steady breeze, creaking high above their heads. Ico slowly wandered closer, craning his neck to get a better look at the strange structure. Who ever heard of a windmill in a castle? When he looked back down at the pool, Ico realized he was very thirsty, and took a long drink from the cool, clear water. Yorda watched him curiously, and then contented herself with trying to imitate him, cupping her hands around the water and splashing it all over her front.

Ico's mind was already racing to their next step; even the wonder of the castle couldn't keep his mind off their worries for long. He shivered even in the bright sunlight as he considered how the queen's eyes were probably resting on them at that very moment, snickering at their feeble attempts. He turned his attention instead to the top of the windmill, which was flat. It connected to the wall of the castle by a crumbling stone bridge, and at the end of this bridge, close to the top of the castle wall, there was a stone shelf that looked wide enough to admit two children. Ico watched the slowly gyrating sails of the windmill with apprehension, for he was beginning to see what he must do, and beginning to realize that, again, Yorda would not be able to follow. He was loath to leave her, even for a minute, after what had happened in the cemetery. But he could see that there was no other way to continue, so he approached the windmill with reluctant feet.

Ico glanced one last time at Yorda, who was now chasing a dove that had alighted on the grass beside her. Ico paused for a moment, treasuring the sight of his luminous friend frolicking in the grass and the sunlight, then turned back to the groaning windmill. He timed himself carefully and grabbed onto the wooden frame of a sail as it swept down to its lowest point. Then with an uncomfortable jolt, Ico felt his feet leave the ground as the sail carried him upward. Using extreme caution, he swung over onto the other side of the sail as it became horizontal halfway up to the top. The only problem now was that he couldn't see how close he was to the top of the windmill. He had to use his own dangling legs as a guide to see which direction was down, and to gauge when he was above the top. Finally he decided it must be nearing the top, and jumped off the sail backwards. He collapsed onto the stone windmill with relief, and remained huddled on his knees for a while.

He had been in too many dangerous situations already, whether they involved giant leaps of faith or arriving at Yorda's side just barely in time. He didn't want to ever place himself or Yorda in another predicament, but he had a feeling that they would be in danger again quite soon. They might escape that danger, but there would be another one lying in wait for them after that, and another after that. There would be no end to danger until they left this castle's walls far behind.

Ico peeked over the side of the windmill to find Yorda splashing happily in the shallow part of the pool at the foot of the windmill. Even as he watched, she noticed her reflection in the water and bent over it, poking it with one luminous finger and then jumping back when the girl in the pool did the same. Ico turned away, a warm fondness budding in his chest, leaving her to become acquainted with her reflection. He got to his feet and, testing the crumbling stone carefully, set out across the bridge to the shelf against the wall. When he neared it, he could see that the shelf continued along the corner where it met another wall, a wall that ran alongside the little grassy cliff. In the corner made by the meeting of these two walls sat another statue-door. Ico made note of it and continued along the shelf. It ended opposite a small flight of broken steps not far from the windmill, with a sheer drop in between. The stairs looked as though they might have once led to the stone shelf, but they had broken off long ago.

Yorda, meanwhile, had seemed to realize she was alone, and lost interest in her little games by the side of the pool. She stood, looking about her forlornly like a lost child at market, and instantly brightened when she saw the crimson flash of Ico's shirt. She rushed over to the flight of stairs across from Ico. Ico bit his lip as he held out his hand to her; this gap was a bit wider than the ones she had previously jumped across. But she seemed to realize this as well, and backed up farther for her running start. She darted forward and made a great, flying leap. When Ico caught her, he nearly fell off himself. For several heart-stopping moments, Yorda dangled beneath him, gazing up imploringly at him with wide violet eyes; then Ico pulled her up again, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Ico took one last look around at the strange windmill that churned on unconcernedly, and led Yorda carefully to the statue-doors.

* * *

At first, Ico thought the door led back indoors. Then he saw that they were in yet another courtyard, this one much smaller than any of the others they had been in. The courtyard appeared to be a dead end; the only way on seemed to be a ladder on the side of the wall opposite the doorway. Ico crossed the small courtyard and began to climb, assuming Yorda would follow.

When he had nearly reached the top, Ico suddenly stopped. His heart had gone very still and cold in his chest, and he could almost hear that strange moaning whisper the spirits brought with them. Ico looked down in horror to find several spirits crowding around Yorda, who had backed up into a corner with a terrified expression. Snarling with rage, Ico dropped down from the ladder and raced to her side. The spirits panicked and tried to grab Yorda, but he swatted them away with his trusty stick. He beat them down into the floor and waited for the shadow portal to disappear, but instead it only frothed like a cauldron boiling over. Ico swallowed nervously, for he understood what this meant: more spirits.

Three spirits spilled out onto the floor, and more followed behind them, scrabbling to get out onto the stones. "Stay behind me," Ico whispered to Yorda, pushing her behind him with one hand and clutching his stick tightly in the other. The spirits advanced, but he was ready. His stick whistled back and forth, cracking against spirit after spirit as they tried to get past him. Finally, the last spirit toppled and the portal faded away. Ico let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand across his sweaty forehead.

Once again, Ico started up the ladder. At the top, he found himself on a stretch of grass growing on the flat upper level of the courtyard, closed in by stone walls. Ico cast his eyes about himself again, and they fell on a short flight of steps leading to another statue-door on the left wall. A tree grew in the middle of the courtyard, the first tree Ico had seen in this castle. The sun glistened on its translucent leaves, sending dappled shadows onto the grass. The sun was warm and comfortable on his skin, driving away the chill of the spirits.

Thinking of the spirits reminded him of Yorda, and he turned to find her clambering a little clumsily up over the edge after him. Once she had hastened over to his side, Yorda held her cool white fingers out before her, feeling the warmth of the sun with obvious delight. Ico crossed over to the tree, feeling suddenly weary. They were safe for the moment, for there always seemed to be a lapse of time in between spirit attacks. He sank to the grass at the foot of the tree, then looked up and saw fruit dangling from the branches. It looked ripe, so Ico pulled some of the round, orange-colored fruit off the tree, handing two to Yorda and hungrily digging into his own. The fruit was sun-warmed, the skin pulled so tight it hardly took any pressure from his teeth to explode in a fountain of juice in his mouth. Ico ate as many as he could, watching as Yorda tried to lick the sticky juice off her fingers, and only succeeded in spreading it around farther than ever.

When Ico's stomach was full to bursting, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree and let out a long sigh of contentment. They were safe, and the sun was so warm, the breeze so calming...the grass so soft...like a blanket... Surely it...wouldn't hurt just to...to rest for a moment... The horned boy's eyes closed, his back slumped further down the trunk of the tree, and he slipped under the heavy waves of slumber.

**I think the reason for the title is pretty obvious, with the last little section about the fruit and Ico falling asleep.**


	9. Legacy

**Author's Note: Christmas Special! I'm going to post two chapters this week instead of just one, so I hope you'll enjoy them. Please review, as always.**

**Chapter Nine – Legacy**

_A young man with red hair, wearing travel-worn clothes in varying shades of brown, as well as a green cloth over his shirt patterned just like Ico's, carefully led his pitch-black steed into the ruins of a vast hall. Huge statues, taller than a man and shaped in the likenesses of animals and strange creatures, lined the walls. Sunlight shone down through a large circular hole in the ceiling, and directly past the circle of sunlight stood a stone altar. The young man came to a stop and reached up to take a large bundle off his horse's saddle. It looked heavy as he carried it over to the altar and set it down on the worn stone. He grabbed the dark covering with both hands and ripped it away in one smooth motion._

_A young woman lay before him on the altar, dressed in a simple white dress, barefooted, with thin dark hair and a pale complection. Her eyes were closed as if in sleep, but there was no rising and falling of her chest; she was dead. The man ran one finger along her cheek with a wistful expression, then turned back to the hall._

_A voice spoke, a deep, inhuman voice that came from the sunlight streaming through the hole in the ceiling. It was a thousand voices, and yet one, voices of men, of women, of children, one coming to the surface only to be smothered amongst all the others vying for control. "Thou hast the Ancient Sword in thy possession," the voice said. "So thou art mortal..."_

_"Are you Dormin?" the young man asked, gazing up into the sunlight and resting a hand on the hilt of the sword at his belt. "I was told that in this place at the end of the world, there exists a being who can command the dead."_

_"Thou art correct," the voice replied. "We are known as Dormin."_

_The young man cast a longing glance over his shoulder at the woman lying on the altar. "She was sacrificed," he told Dormin, "for she had a cursed fate. Please... I need you to bring back her soul." The hand on his sword tightened convulsively._

_A slightly sinister laugh rippled down through the hole. "That maiden's soul? Souls that are once lost cannot be reclaimed... Is that not the law of mortals? With that sword, however, it may not be impossible."_

_"Really?!" The man took an involuntary step forward, looking hopeful._

_"That is, of course, if thou wilt do what We asketh."_

_The man's face became closed. "What must I do?"_

_"In this land," Dormin informed him, "there exist magical creatures, the Colossi, who are the incarnations of the idols thou seest within these walls. If thou canst defeat these Colossi, the idols shall fall. But heed this: the price thou wilt pay may be heavy indeed."_

_"It doesn't matter!" the young man cried, desperation ringing in his voice and shining in his dark eyes. It was clear this man would go to any lengths to achieve his goal._

_"Very well," Dormin said a little disdainfully, as if They didn't think much of this human's motivation. "Raise thy sword to the light, and head to the place where the sword's light gathers. There thou shalt find the Colossi thou art to defeat."_

_The young man obediently pulled his sword from its sheath and held it up to the light streaming down onto his face. Everything became muddled afterward, and Ico could never remember much about that part of the dream. He caught snatches of the young man clinging to heaving masses of hair, or plunging his sword deep into ancient flesh, or gazing at the smashed bits of stone that soon littered the great hall as idol after idol was shattered. One moment, he was plunging his sword into a Colossus' flesh, and the next he seemed to be riding over a wide plain on the back of his stallion. One moment, he was falling; the next, he let out a cry of dismay as his horse fell into a ravine behind him._

_When the dream cleared again, Ico saw several men galloping across a long, suspended bridge on horses. It was obvious from their garb that they were priests, and since all but the one in the middle, the only one on a white horse, carried weapons, they seemed to come from a temple much larger than the one in Ico's village. They galloped across the bridge, miles above the ground, racing towards a huge tower. When they came to the end of the bridge, they all reined in their horses and dismounted. The foremost riders opened a stone door in the tower, and they all entered._

_And down the tall tower they went. Down a long, winding staircase hugging the walls of the tower, past a round pool of water directly beneath a hole in the ceiling, and into the huge hall with the altar and sixteen shattered idols. As the head priest, the one who had been on the white horse, looked around in dismay, the others cautiously advanced, weapons drawn. "Lord Emon!" one of them called, pointing to the woman lying on the altar._

_The head priest, Emon, hurried forward, gasping with shock as he recognized the 'cursed one.' Shaking his head regretfully, he held a hand over her closed eyes and began to murmur the proper rites. But suddenly a sound made him turn around, his chant cut off. The young man had appeared, lying on the floor in the pool of sunlight. He was changed, though; changed drastically from when he had first set foot in this place. His hair was inky black, with the small stubs of two new horns poking through his scalp; his skin was pale and wasted, like that of a man nearly dead; and a mixture of blood, dirt, and what looked like black ink covered his whole body. His clothes were tattered, and his sword clattered onto the stones beside him, black to the hilt. His battles against the Colossi had changed him – and not for the better._

_"I don't believe this," Emon spluttered. "So it was you after all! Have you any idea what you've done? Not only did you steal the sword and trespass upon this cursed land, you've used the forbidden spell as well!"_

_The young man hardly seemed to hear him as he slowly picked himself up from the ground. His eyes were blazing white and his breath rattled in his throat; his body seemed reluctant to obey him as he staggered to his feet. Slowly, step by step, teeth gritted in determination, he staggered towards the altar where the woman lay, surrounded by priests._

_"To be reduced to such a sight..." Emon murmured, backing up a little in terror. "You were only being used. Eradicate the source of evil..." He turned desperately to his guards as the young man stumbled ever closer. "Look at his eyes! He's possessed by the dead!"_

_Sure enough, black silhouettes were rising up from the ground behind the young man, waving their arms as if goading him on. Two wide-eyed guards stepped tentatively towards the advancing man, hesitantly raising their weapons._

_"Hurry up and do it!" Emon cried, gripping the edge of the altar in fear._

_One of the guards raised his crossbow and shot an arrow at the man's leg. The man instantly fell to the ground, clutching his wounded leg, which had begun to turn black around the area where the arrow had penetrated._

_"Yes," Emon whispered, recovering a little from his fright. "It is better to put him out of his misery than to let him exist, cursed as he is."_

_The other guard stood over the young man and raised his sword above his head. The guard took careful aim, and plunged his sword down into the young man's chest, on his right side between his shoulder and his heart. The guard let go of his sword and stumbled back with a cry of alarm, for black, ink-like blood began to spurt out around the blade like a geyser. The young man groped with one hand for the woman on the altar, gasping in pain and clutching the sword still embedded in his flesh with his other hand. With a mighty effort, he pulled the sword-point out of his chest and let it clatter to the floor, dripping with his inky-black blood. For a moment, he wavered on his knees, staring longingly towards the altar. Then he fell onto his back as his life drained out of him._

_Even as he breathed his last, a dark shadow crept across his body, licking up his legs and engulfing his head, horn stubs and all. He began to grow, larger than a man, larger than a horse, larger even than a house. His form remained dark and monstrous, with two mighty bull horns sprouting up to brush the ceiling. His eyes were nothing but glowing white-blue orbs. The black silhouettes that had risen from the ground raced forwards and melted into the huge black form before them._

_And then, Dormin spoke. "Thou hast severed Our body for an eternity in order to seal away Our power. But now We, Dormin, have arisen anew..."_

_Emon wailed in horror and despair. "He's been resurrected!"_

_"We have borrowed the body of this warrior," Dormin gloated, "for Our just revenge."_

_Emon darted forward, snatched up the sword the young man had used, and fled past the hulking beast, muttering all the while, "Place a seal over the entire shrine before it's too late..."_

_The guards shot a volley of arrows at Dormin before following the head priest. Dormin turned to follow, to crush them underfoot as recompense for the hundreds of years They had suffered imprisonment. But since They had taken over the young man's body, They were also subject to the failings of his body. The leg that had been hit by the guard's arrow was virtually useless, dragging along on the ground behind Them and slowing Them down considerably. Though Dormin struggled to follow, Emon and his guards made it to the end of the hall, past the circular pool of water, and up the winding staircase._

_Emon stood at the top of the staircase, holding the Ancient Sword up to the light spilling in through the hole in the ceiling. After muttering a spell, he cried, "Begone, foul beast!" He flung the sword, the ancient weapon, the only thing that could free Dormin, and the only thing that could imprison Them again, down towards the pool of water. As the priests made their escape through the door to the bridge beyond, the pool of water exploded in a burst of searing, blinding white light. All the water in the pool was sucked down into a void, and the light from the pool reached out eager fingers to draw everything else into the endless pit as well. Dormin scrabbled at the stones, but this spell was calling to Them, and no matter how hard They tried to stop Themselves, They were pulled inexorably towards the void the Ancient Sword had made. The howling wind that had risen up from the void whirled around Them, pulling at Their limbs with the strength of a thousand Colossi. As Dormin tumbled head over heels, pulled back towards the empty pool, the black form slowly shrank down to its original size, the size of a young man. He clung onto the lip of the pool, trying desperately to save himself from oblivion, but then his strength gave out and he fell into the void._

_Meanwhile, the priests galloped with all their might across the long bridge. The stones that made up the bridge fell down just behind the feet of the last horse, and as soon as the priests had gained solid ground on the cliffs that surrounded that cursed land, the last of the bridge tumbled down to the ground far, far below them. "Poor, ungodly soul..." Emon murmured as he looked back at the tower. "Now, no man shall ever trespass upon this place again. Should you be alive... If it is even possible to continue to exist in these sealed lands... One day, perhaps, you will atone for what you've done."_

_As the priests turned to leave that land forever, the howling wind grew silent and life began to stir inside the tower. The woman who lay on the altar slowly opened her eyes and looked around her with surprise. Slowly, she sat up and slid off the altar onto her bare feet. She took in the ruined hall, with the last remains of the sixteen idols and several dropped weapons, still freshly stained with black blood. She turned her head as she heard a sound: the unsteady clip-clop of hooves. A mighty black warhorse limped into the hall from the sunny fields outside. He held one leg off the ground, as though it was broken, and his reins were hanging from him in tatters. He had lost his saddle altogether._

_Slowly, the woman stepped closer to the horse, who hobbled forward as well. The woman carefully reached out one hand to pat the mighty horse's nose. The stallion nudged her hand and started to limp down the long length of the hall, to the circular pool where Dormin had disappeared. The woman followed, running her fingers through the horse's dark mane. The horse led her to the empty pool; the searing, sucking vortex of magic had dissipated as soon as Dormin had fallen in. But the pool was not completely empty. Lying right in the middle of the stone circle, snuffling with tiny tears, was a baby boy. He had black hair and bright, dark eyes – and two little stubs of horn poking through his hair._

_The boy's face slowly molded into that of his son's, and then his son's son, and on and on down through the ages. And in every generation, there was a boy born with tiny stubs of horn sticking out the sides of his head. The faces molded faster and faster, till they were only a blur of noses, eyes, and horns. At last they molded into the final face, the face of the last horned boy. The face of Ico._

Ico woke with a start, shivering uncontrollably. The shock of seeing his own face had startled him out of his strange dream. When he sat up straighter and looked about him, it took several moments to remember where he was, and what he was doing. He hugged his knees against his chest, cold even in the midday sunlight. His dream had been so real, as real as the time he had dreamed about Yorda's cage. And that dream had turned out to be filled with truth, so there was no reason to suppose this dream was any different.

Now he knew the origin of his curse. The young red-haired man had unleashed a dreadful monster, a monster that should have remained imprisoned for eternity. All the same, Ico couldn't find it in his heart to judge the young man. The man had only wanted to save the woman in the white dress, to bring her back. Was Ico not doing a similar thing? He, too, had been sacrificed because he had a cursed fate. He was escaping from this castle as much for Yorda's sake as his own. He looked at her now, at the luminous girl running barefoot through the grass, chasing doves. Ico knew that if Yorda died, and he heard of a being like Dormin who could bring back the dead, he too would seek that being out even if it meant unleashing a great evil. He would do no different were he in the young man's position.

Still, Ico felt more than a little guilty. All through these generations, the descendants of the young man had been sacrificed as atonement for the grave deed he had done. If Ico managed to escape, didn't that mean he was running away from the just punishment for what his ancestor had done? Ico frowned at this; why should he be punished for a mistake he had never made? Still, that young red-haired man had done something terrible when he unleashed Dormin. Perhaps the only way atonement could be attained was through a horned child being born in every generation and sacrificed.

Ico touched one of his horns briefly, and shuddered as he always did when he felt the smooth ivory. He took in a deep breath of the earthy smell of the grass all around him, and held out his hands to catch the rays of sunlight. He couldn't help it; even if he _was_ part of the payment for his ancestor's sin, he loved life. He didn't want to give up and die, when he could live and breathe the free air. And as he watched Yorda frolicking happily, so graceful and beautiful, he knew he could never let the spirits take her. He had to show her what it was like to run through the forests, or splash in the creeks, or bask on the hills in the dying rays of sunlight.

It was for her that he risked his life time and time again. She was what drove him on when he ached all through. Her healing powers kept him going when there was no hope left. How strange that they couldn't even talk to each other. Well, if atonement couldn't be made any other way, perhaps Ico could atone by saving Yorda. If he could save Yorda, and give up his own life, perhaps that would be enough to atone. Or maybe, he thought bitterly, he was hoping in vain.

Ico got to his feet and shielded his eyes to check the time. To his surprise, the sun was already in the middle of the sky. They had wasted enough time here; the spirits might come at any moment, and the queen was watching them. As Ico went over to tell Yorda it was time to go, he was surprised at how light his heart felt. To be sure, it was not a bright prospect they were facing. But if somehow he could ensure Yorda's escape, he would be content.

**The origin of this chapter's title seems obvious to me. This chapter is about the legacy the young man left behind him, the legacy Ico has followed in all his life. What will Ico's legacy be?**


	10. Light

**Author's Note: Here's the second part of the "Christmas Special." Another reason I'm doing this is because I'm going to be out of town next week, so I won't be able to update at my usual time. Happy Holidays!**

**Chapter Ten – Light**

When Ico and Yorda passed through the statue-doors at the top of the stairs in the grassy courtyard, they found themselves in another courtyard with high walls and a long flight of stone steps leaning against the right wall. The steps were tall and narrow, and before long Ico was panting. When at last they reached the top of the stairs, he had to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun that momentarily blinded him as it bounced off the stones all around. To their left, the castle dropped off to the sea far below, and to the right it rose up far above their heads. Directly in front of them was a deep pit descending into absolute darkness. Ico shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted across the gap, where he thought he could see a ledge leading to another set of statue-doors. But how to get across?

Ico let go of Yorda's hand and paced up and down the edge of the deep pit, thinking hard and looking at their surroundings carefully. Casting his gaze about, he could see there was a small ledge running along the wall to the right that he thought he could fit on, but Yorda would never make it even if he managed to explain to her what to do. Under that ledge, he noticed a small wooden platform jutting out from the stones before him, attached to a groove running along the right wall. He could see no way to use this, so he decided to go across on the ledge. "Stay there," he told Yorda, gesturing to reinforce his meaning, and carefully inched himself onto the narrow ledge.

Almost immediately, Ico was snatched by an overwhelming sense of vertigo, and he pressed his face against the wall. Biting his lip to keep down his fear, he cautiously inched sideways, facing the wall and screwing up his eyes so he wouldn't have to look down. There was one heart-stopping moment when his foot slipped off the ledge, but he quickly regained his balance and made it to the far side safely. Jumping down from the ledge, Ico saw that there was indeed another set of statue-doors on this side of the pit. A chain hung down the wall, stopping just above the narrow ledge he had come across on. Ico reached up and began to climb this chain, his feet swinging below him as he climbed.

He pulled himself over the edge of the small balcony the chain was attached to, and paused a moment to catch his breath. From this even higher vantage point, he could see for miles out to sea, and the forested cliffs that surrounded the bay. How he wished he could reach them... Ico tore his wistful gaze away from the horizon and looked about the balcony he had climbed onto. It was very small; the only thing on it was a lever on the wall that rose up still higher above Ico's head. He pulled it and heard a distant clank and clatter, then looked over the side and saw the little wooden platform inching across the pit. Yorda stood on it, looking down with obvious astonishment at the boards moving beneath her feet. When it bumped against the other side, she hurried onto the solid stones.

Ico gasped as he watched a black shadow portal open in a corner beside Yorda and several spirits pull themselves out. Ico didn't wait any longer; he threw himself down the chain, climbing down as fast as his arms would move. When he was several feet from the ground, he dropped down from the chain, staggering as he landed on his feet. The spirits were advancing on Yorda, who had retreated to the corner opposite from the spirit portal. Ico charged at the spirits with a yell, swinging his stick back and forth. They scattered before his fury, allowing him to take Yorda's hand again. "Come on!" Ico cried, pulling on his frightened friend's hand. He pushed her in front of the statue-doors, and the white magic pouring from her chest finished off the remaining spirits. Ico grabbed Yorda's hand and led the way through the door. It wasn't a comforting thought, but he was beginning to get used to the routine of spirit attacks.

The two friends found themselves on a balcony that spanned a large courtyard. Ico looked over the railing at the ground far below, and thought the courtyard looked familiar. He remembered the mighty battle that had taken place there, the spirits converging on him and Yorda in greater numbers than ever before. Ico shuddered as he remembered that battle, and all the pain he had felt before Yorda's magic had healed him. He gripped his friend's hand tighter and hurried across the balcony, to another set of statue-doors.

When they stepped through this door, they saw that they stood on a long parapet that ran the length of the courtyard with the front gate, where they had met the queen. At the end of the courtyard, the parapet turned at a sharp angle to the left, running a ways until it terminated in a tower that sat on a separate island from the castle. As they walked along the parapet, Ico looked down over the wall to the courtyard below. He remembered when they had stood before the gate this morning (had it really been only a few hours ago?), and shivered again as he thought of how the queen must even now be watching them. She could appear at any moment, preventing them from escape as easily as she had done before... Ico sped up, hurrying towards the tower at the end of the long parapet.

When at last they reached the tower, they found the door leading into it blocked by more statues. The white magic poured from Yorda, and as soon as the statues had begun to separate, she rushed through. Reminded strongly of the time she had run through the door to the gate, Ico hurried after her into the tower, wondering again at her sporadic bursts of initiative.

They had come into a large, high-ceilinged room made of mossy, crumbling stone like the majority of the castle. Set deep into the wall opposite them was a huge circle made of either rusted metal or dark stone, he couldn't tell which. A thin crack ran in a straight line right down the middle of it, which made Ico think it had to be a door or window of some kind. _But a door for giants!_ he thought in awe. Turning from this strange sight, he took in the rest of the large, bare room. He turned around, and above the door they had just entered was another huge circle just like the first, aligned so they faced each other. In the far right corner of the room was a blackened doorway.

Ico turned to Yorda and took her hand. His fingers twitched as he felt the brush of power against his skin, and he led Yorda through the doorway to the room beyond. This second room was darker than the first, and Ico barely saw the floor dropping away before he could stop. The floor dipped down sharply several feet, but there was a ladder against the side of the drop. When Ico reached the bottom, he found his eyes were more accustomed to the gloom. He could see the other side of the gigantic circle door looming up above him, and the room extending off to his right. It was hard to tell in this dim light, but he thought he saw a third circle door in the far wall of the room.

Directly before him, however, was a round stone dais raised slightly above the floor. It was small; it looked just wide enough for two people to stand on. Curious as to what purpose it served, Ico hoisted himself up on the top of it. He felt the rough stone with his hands as he pulled himself up, and thought it felt as though a circle had been carved around the edge of the dais. Ico straightened up, looking around the room from his new vantage point, and then noticed that Yorda was struggling up to join him. He grasped her hand and helped her the rest of the way, and as soon as her feet touched the stone, the circle around the edge glowed the same bluish-white that all the statue-doors did when they opened.

Ico suddenly cried out, wobbling and nearly losing his balance, for the dais abruptly lowered into the ground with a jerk. The floor leading up to the third circle door glowed blue-white, revealing symbols carved deeply into the stone, grouped into rectangles. One by one, each rectangle rose a bit off the floor, each one rising a little higher than the last, creating a series of shallow steps right up to the circle door. The glow faded away, and with it went what little warmth the room contained. Ico caught his breath as he heard the unearthly moan coming from the very stones of the castle. "The spirits!" he hissed in fear.

Before the shadowy wraiths had time to materialize out of the portals hidden in the darkest corners of the room, the horned boy grabbed Yorda and raced for the other side of the room. Without the glow, he couldn't see the steps, so he tripped on the first one and stumbled on the others, but there was no time to be more careful. He didn't care that the bare toes in his sandals were getting bruised and bloody; indeed, he hardly noticed. When they finally reached the far side of the room, he groped around desperately for a door, anything he could do to bring some light into the room. He could hear the spirits hastening towards them, but they blended in so well with the gloom all around that he couldn't tell where they were.

Ico's hands met nothing but the cold stones of the wall, and after several moments of panicked groping, he felt a sudden tug on his arm. Yorda's bright luminescence was all he could see in the darkness, but the shadows seemed to be tugging on her arm. Taking a wild guess, Ico swung his stick through the blackness that pressed around them, and heard a satisfying crack as his stick met its mark. He pressed his attack, but after several blows he found himself swinging into thin air. Letting out a warning yell, he lashed out in the opposite direction, hoping his weapon would happen to hit a stray spirit.

But when he did this, he felt a heavy blow across his back, and he was thrown to the floor, Yorda's hand slipping from his grasp. In horror, Ico jumped back onto his feet, whirling around to find Yorda suspended in midair, a white speck in the sea of darkness. Yelling like a madman, Ico tore down the steps in the wake of the spirit who held Yorda. When she was a foot from the ground, Ico swung his stick and struck the invisible spirit out of the air. Yorda fell onto the floor, and Ico continued to strike the spirit until he couldn't find it anymore.

Yorda gasped and backed away, staring fearfully into the shadows ahead of him, and Ico spun around, prepared to fight off more spirits. Before he could strike, however, a fleshless hand closed about his throat. It felt as insubstantial and harmless as smoke, but it had the strength of flesh and blood. The hand closed tighter and tighter about his windpipe, threatening to block out his air entirely. Choking and spluttering, Ico clawed at the spirit's hand, but it would not relent. In a final, desperate motion, he jabbed his stick backwards at the spirit. The pressure around his neck vanished instantly, and Ico fell to the floor, gasping for breath. But Yorda was backing away fearfully, and he knew there was no time to lose. Still gasping for breath, he struggled to his feet and charged after the spirit silhouetted against Yorda's glow. He felt the spirit fall back under his attack, until after several blows the icy chill left the air.

Ico wiped the sweat off his brow, realizing the portal must have disappeared. Taking Yorda's hand, he headed back to the end of the room, where he hoped he would be able to examine the circle door. Squinting up at it, Ico wondered if there was a way to open it. If his estimation was right, they were on the eastern side of the castle, on one of the islands flanking the main body of the keep. He wasn't about to get his hopes up too high, but maybe there would be a way to reach the cliffs and escape this castle once and for all.

Unable to see in the darkness, Ico tripped on the last shallow step. Throwing out a hand to catch himself, he bumped into a stick of some kind, which gave a grating sound and shifted under his weight as he leaned against it.

Just as he realized this was a lever, a sudden rumbling began beneath his feet and in his chest. The rumbling was all through the air, so potent he could almost feel the air shivering. Ico gasped and took a step back, for the great circle door had begun to open with a groan, the halves splitting apart and sliding back into the wall. Bright afternoon sunlight shone into the dark room - warm, cheerful. Yorda reached up her hands in a futile attempt to catch the motes of dust that were suddenly revealed in the light, dancing like a thousand glowing princesses.

Ico couldn't see very clearly through the blinding sunlight, but he could smell the invigorating, salty smell of the sea, and eagerly scrambled up onto the curved threshold of the circle door. He pulled Yorda up with him, and together they hopped down out of the door, which had already begun to grow warm with the sun's powerful rays. Stepping out of the beam of light, Ico looked around to find that they were indeed on the very edge of the tiny island the tower had been built upon. They stood on the very rim of the cliff itself; several hundred yards away the earth and stone dropped away to the water of the bay far, far below. The sea air, the cool breeze lifting his black hair, and the feel of overgrown grass falling over his bare toes filled Ico's small body with life, till he almost felt he could have soared on the wings of the wind to yonder cliffs and freedom...

Heaving a great sigh, Ico gazed wistfully and a little more sensibly at the forested cliffs. They were so close, yet still unreachable! Those far cliffs were filled with hope and promise, yet somehow they were depressing as well. They seemed to be mocking the two prisoners, laughing gleefully at their struggles. _Just as the queen must be at this very moment..._ he thought.

Clenching his teeth, Ico wrenched his gaze away from the far-off cliffs and returned it to the one they were standing on. In the middle of the small space of earth and grass stood a strange structure, like a tall tree of iron, a bowl-shaped dish made of reflective metal perched on the top, perfectly aligned with the circle door they had just opened - and thus aligned with the other two circle doors as well. The sunlight hit the dish, which reflected it innumerable times within itself till it shot out towards the tower. _And if we were to open the other two doors, it would shine _through_ the tower..._

Ico wasn't sure if that was what they wanted or not; this whole attempt at escape was nothing but stumbling blunders based on whim anyway. He had no idea what this strange contraption had been built for, but it might help them in their quest. So Ico called Yorda to him, helped her over the tall threshold again, and led her back across the room to the middle circle door. Examining it in the light coming in through the circle door, he saw a lever close to the bottom of the door, just like the first circle door. Feeling confident now, he pulled the lever.

This door opened just as the other one had, but as it jerked open Ico could have sworn he saw something long and shiny fall down from it, as though it had been stuck in the crack in the middle of the circle door. The bright sunlight extended into the large outer room. "C'mon," Ico muttered, and helped Yorda clamber over into the other room. As soon as his feet hit the floor, Ico examined the long shiny object that had fallen onto the ground. It was a sword made of simple, unadorned metal, but it still seemed to have a sharp edge despite the rust that covered the door it had been stuck in.

Just then Ico felt a stronger surge of Yorda's magic than usual, and looked up to find that she had shrunk fearfully against his side, her violet eyes open wide for once in genuine fear. Gripping the sword he had just picked up, Ico searched all around for spirits, but they were alone. Suddenly he realized the source of her fear: Bars had risen up from the floor all around them, shutting them inside. The same spikes stuck out around the top as had been around Yorda's cage.

_Yorda's cage!_ No wonder Yorda was frightened; she was remembering her imprisonment atop that tower! Ico wondered how long she had been forced to stay up there, wondered if the queen had ever visited her. If she had, he wondered which had been worse - the times when the queen scolded or mocked her, or the times when Yorda was utterly alone for hours on end. Naturally, Ico couldn't ask her for the details, and he wasn't sure he would have even if they spoke the same language. Yorda was actually shaking, as though afraid that they would be caged there forever - as _she_ very well might have been, had her horned rescuer not shown up.

"Don't worry," Ico said reassuringly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I will get us out of here."

A quick glance around them revealed a pulley on either side of the circle door, the ropes pulled tight. Ico gently pulled himself away from Yorda's clutching fingers and strode over to one of the pulleys. It was easy to cut through the taught rope with his new sword. Nothing happened to the bars surrounding them, and Ico felt a twinge of worry. What if these pulleys _weren't_ connected to the bars? He pushed that thought out of his mind and continued to the other pulley, cutting through the rope with the same ease. With a clattering crash, the bars fell back into the floor and they were free again.

For a minute Yorda looked as though she was going to cry, but then she turned to Ico instead and grasped his hand with both of hers. The shivering tingle that met his skin almost seemed giddy with relief. Yorda could not express the emotions swimming about in her eyes, but she held Ico's hand to her heart for several moments, gripping it tightly with both of her hands. Ico understood, and when she lowered his hand again he nodded once and squeezed her hand.

Ico looked over at the third and final circle door and crossed over to it, looking for the lever that would open it. When he found it, he tried to pry his fingers away from Yorda's hand, but she clutched it tightly, refusing to let go. With a sigh, he set his new sword against the wall and pulled the lever with his free hand, watching as the last circle door creaked open.

All of a sudden, the entire tower seemed to tremble with power. Ico nearly lost his footing, but he grabbed the wall just in time. He heard a strange fizzing, buzzing sound coming from outside the tower, and hurried out of the statue-doors to see what was happening. At the corner of the long parapet, towering over the main gate, was a large stone sphere that sat on a thin spire. Ico hadn't thought much of it before, but now it sat directly in the strong beam of sunlight coming from the tower, turning it the same bluish-white as Yorda's magic. The ball was rotating, and offshoots of excess white magic were flying into the sky.

Before Ico had time to wonder what its function was or whether he should be clapping his hands or groaning, he felt the dreaded chill in his bones. Then he _did_ groan. Looking wildly over his shoulder, he saw ten angry spirits soaring over the tower behind them. Too late, Ico realized he had left his new sword back in the tower. He had no weapons, no means of protecting them. "Run!" Ico yelled, following his own advice and sprinting down the parapet, clutching Yorda's hand and tugging her along behind him.

They were angry at what he had done, he just _knew_ it. Well, anything that made the spirits angry seemed like a good idea to him, but he still had the problem of facing ten spirits with no weapons beyond his own horns - and he wasn't sure how much good they would do. All he could do was run like the wind down the parapet. Why did it have to be so long? Ico skidded around the corner, nearly falling over into the courtyard below, and tore up the last bit. Yorda stumbled and panted alongside him, terror lending speed to her legs. The spirits were gaining; he could hear the ragged beating of their wings.

He could see the door at the end of the parapet that led into the courtyard in between the gate and the room with the chandeliers. Then he glanced to the right and saw a ladder he hadn't noticed before up against the side of the castle. As they raced down the last stretch of the parapet, the magic from the spinning sphere gathered at the top of the ladder, moving the stones aside to create a doorway. "Hurry!" Ico cried tersely to Yorda, hurrying up the ladder as fast as he could, hoping to stay ahead of the spirits somehow. Yorda followed his advice, even if she couldn't understand it. She knew that her own life could be at stake, and stayed close on Ico's heels. The spirits were nearly upon them when Ico reached the top, grabbed Yorda under the arms, and hurled both of them through the door. He had barely tumbled in when he saw exactly what he needed: another sword, sticking up through a hole in the floor.

Ico grabbed the sword by the hilt and pulled it out with a clear ringing sound. He turned to meet the first spirit head-on as it tried to crowd in through the door after them. Ico was stunned by the power of the sword; in three swipes, the spirit was nothing but a cloud of smoke. It seemed the sharp edge could cut through things of the spiritual realm as well as those of the physical. More spirits continued to come through the door, but they all fell to Ico's flashing sword. When at last the final one had fallen and the chill left the air, Ico looked appraisingly down at his sword and nodded in satisfaction. It would be helpful as they continued through the castle.

**I named this chapter "light" because this whole puzzle thing in here has a lot to do with light and darkness. And when spirits are involved, the presence or absence of life can be the factor that determines whether you will live or die.**


	11. Waterfall

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, if anyone is still reading this. I was on vacation, and then it took a while to really get caught up with all of my internet commitments. Enjoy the next chapter, and please review! **

**Chapter Eleven – Waterfall**

When Ico had his breath back, he took the time to look around at their surroundings. They were on a balcony close to the top of the walls of the courtyard. Leaning over the railing, Ico could see the entire courtyard below him. He could see the balcony below that led out to the parapet that ran to the tower, and he suddenly noticed a great wooden bridge drawn up on that balcony. When it was lowered, it would lead to another balcony across the courtyard, which had a large open doorway that he thought led back into the great hall with the chandeliers. To his left, he saw an exact mirror image of the balconies and another bridge, also drawn up.

Then Ico noticed a lever on the balcony he and Yorda stood on. He pulled it, and saw the bridge beneath him begin to lower. As it touched down on the other side, a low thump could be heard all around the courtyard. Ico beckoned to Yorda and led the way back down the long ladder to the parapet, and through the door they had come through before, to the balcony where the now-lowered bridge was. They crossed over and walked the length of the balcony on the other side to the wall on the left. Ico saw a rope in a pulley over the side of the balcony, attached to the wall of the castle over his head. Directly beneath this rope was a stone shelf, but it was too high for him to climb. Then he noticed a metal crate in the corner, and pulled it over to the shelf. He clambered up, then cut the tight rope with his sword.

Leaping down, Ico looked over the railing to see what had happened. The rope had fallen out of the pulley, but it seemed to have caught in a pulley lower down the wall, so that it hung limply down almost to the floor of the courtyard. He had a feeling about this, so he took Yorda by the hand and entered the hall with the chandeliers through the doorway on the balcony. Ico led Yorda along the balcony that ran around the walls of the room, and remembered how he had broken the great stone bridge that now provided the only way across the dark pit in the floor. They made their way down the sloping bridge, slipping every now and then, and emerged back into the large courtyard through the open statue-doors.

Turning to his right, Ico walked over to where the rope hung down in front of two levels of large windows in the stone wall. The glass in most of them had been broken or completely shattered, and he could see another room through them. He supposed it was probably an empty room that wouldn't help them at all, but there was no harm in looking. He tugged on the rope, testing it to be sure it would hold his weight, but it seemed to still be strong. He climbed, hand over hand, up the rope to the higher of the two windows and swung himself in. He glanced back out the window and saw that Yorda was standing beneath him, looking up at him with a slight frown. "I'll be right back, I promise!" he called down to her, and turned into the room.

He was standing on a wide windowsill that ran along underneath the row of higher windows. Below him was a small stone room with a single guttering torch, empty except for a flight of stairs that led up to a pair of statue-doors. That had to be the way on! Ico spotted a door-like opening at the far end of the windowsill, so he carefully walked towards it, keeping close to the wall. He found that it led to a small loft that looked out over the rest of the room. Tucked into the far corner was another metal crate. Remembering how far off the ground the lower windows were, Ico pushed this crate off the edge of the loft and leapt down on top of it. He pushed the crate over to the windows, and picked the one with the least amount of glass still in its frame. Checking to make sure Yorda was out of the way, he pushed the crate out of the window to hear it hit the floor with a bang.

Poking his head out the window, he beckoned to Yorda and helped her climb from the crate to the window. Then he led her up the stairs and watched as magic poured from her chest to open the statue-doors. Ico suddenly wondered why her magic was only triggered in front of these doors. She had the power to banish the spirits and to heal his body, but she could only use it when she opened doors like these. Why was that the case? Why couldn't she simply get rid of the spirits as soon as they appeared? How could she be taken by them and dragged into a portal, if she had so much power? These questions, he realized, would probably never be answered. He wouldn't be surprised if Yorda didn't know herself. She always seemed a little shocked when the electric-like magic came out of her chest. _Maybe it's the queen's doing,_ he thought. As usual, thoughts of that terrible person spurred him onward. "Well, let's go," he murmured, and led the way through the door.

The next room they found themselves in was a tall one with a large cataract of water pouring down one wall from an opening high up near the ceiling. The pool that this waterfall filled was very far down, and there were two bridges, one above the other, across that vast expanse. Ico and Yorda stood on the highest of the three levels of the room. Ico could see the afternoon sunlight through a large window on the wall opposite them, a window not much more than a large gap in the stones.

The two children made their way across the topmost bridge, but on the other side they met a barred-off door. Ico could see a courtyard outside, but the bars remained strong and would not budge. "I'll have to find another way," he muttered to himself, motioning for Yorda to stay where she was. He turned aside and spotted a long chain hanging over the side of the narrow shelf that ran along this wall. As far as he could tell, the chain reached all the way down to the bottom of the room. Ico carefully inched over to it and let himself down over the edge, climbing down hand over hand. Sometimes Ico wondered what all these chains and ropes and metal crates had once been used for, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they allowed him a path onward.

Ico dropped from the end of the chain, expecting to hit the floor with a clatter of sandals against stone, but instead he fell into something very cold with a loud splash. Bewildered, Ico discovered that he had dropped right into the pool, at the shallow end near the wall farthest from the waterfall. The water only came up to his waist, but it was as cold as ice. Ico was almost surprised it was still fluid. Behind him was a flight of stairs that led up to the middle level. Ico sloshed over to them and pulled himself, dripping and shivering, up out of the water. Teeth chattering, he hurried up the stairs and saw that he was directly underneath the door they had entered this room by. When he set down his foot onto the bridge in front of him, it swayed beneath him and he had to clutch at the rope railings. He realized this bridge was not made of stone like the one above him where Yorda stood waiting, but of rope and boards, so he proceeded across very carefully.

At the other end, Ico stepped out of the room through an open, unobstructed doorway. Jumping down a short series of step-like ledges, Ico found himself in the courtyard they had seen through the barred door. A large aqueduct-like structure stood directly in front of him, spanning the length of the courtyard. There didn't seem to be any water running in it; Ico wondered if perhaps it had fed the waterfall at one point. Still, there was no use in idle wondering. Ico spotted a man-sized metal box-like structure in a corner to his right. Seeing a lever attached to it, Ico hurried over to it, hopped in, and pulled the lever. The box thing suddenly shot upwards, nearly throwing Ico off-balance. It stopped with another jerk at a wide ledge against the side of the wall shared with the waterfall room.

Ico trotted along until he reached the barred door where Yorda still stood. He spied a lever on the wall, and pulled it. The bars lifted with a clatter, and Yorda rushed out to him, looking relieved. Ico led her to the metal box elevator, pulled the lever again, and they rode down to the floor of the courtyard. Then he took her to the pillars supporting the aqueduct. He thought he had seen something earlier, and sure enough, attached to one of the pillars was a metal ladder leading up to the lower of the two levels of the aqueduct. The two children climbed up the ladder and walked the length of the trough where water had once run.

At the end of the aqueduct, they found another ladder that led up to a doorway. After climbing it and entering the doorway, they stood in a huge L-shaped room, completely empty except for torches lining the walls. The only other door out of this room was closed, and the windows were high up on the wall. Thinking the room offered no way to continue on their way through the castle, Ico was about to give up when he chanced to look up towards the windows. Under each window was a ledge, and a pipe ran over them along the wall, high above the children's heads. A ladder in one corner of the room led up to another ledge under the pipe, a considerable distance from any of the windows. Ico hurried over to the ladder and swiftly climbed it. Hooking his legs around the pipe, he pulled himself hand-over-hand along the pipe.

Blood quickly rushed to Ico's head, and several times his sweaty hands nearly slipped off, but he managed to make it to the ledge under the first window and slipped off to crumple up in a heap. When he had regained his breath somewhat, he pushed himself to his feet and looked out the window. He could see a long drop to the grassy floor of a courtyard below, with no means of breaking his fall. Heaving a sigh, Ico clambered back up onto the pipe and continued on to the next window, and the next. Each window provided a view of a fatal fall, and Ico had given up hope when at last he reached the final window. To his surprise, when he leaned out, he saw a ladder attached to the side of the wall. Ico paused, looking down at Yorda standing in the middle of the room. She seemed occupied with examining her own arms, as though looking for the cuts and scratches that so often appeared on Ico's arms. Ico saw that, once again, he would have to leave her where she was, so he lost no more time in descending the ladder.

In the small, grassy courtyard he found himself in, a man-made stream flowed from one side of the enclosure to the other. Here it poured through a wide opening in the stone wall, and Ico could see it plunging downwards into the tall room with the pool of water. So this was where the waterfall came from! The water entered the courtyard Ico was in through a wooden gate in one wall, and there was a stone structure above this gate with a large metal valve. A small idea began forming in Ico's mind, though as usual he wasn't sure if it would do them any good.

First he decided to test the current of the stream. Spying a large wooden crate nearby, he pushed it into the water, where it bobbed down the stream rather fast and disappeared over the side. Ico gulped; if he wasn't careful, that could be him. He pushed his fears aside, backed up, and set off at a running start. He leapt right across the stream, dropping down safely on the other side. Ico let out a relieved breath and hurried over to the gate. He climbed onto the top and threw his weight against the slightly-rusted valve. With a protesting groan, it slowly began to move, and Ico continued pushing until he heard a thump that meant the gate had closed.

Ico paused for a moment, panting and resting his aching muscles, and then hurried back to the stream. The flow of water had stopped, leaving only the wet stones of the artificial bank. Ico didn't have the strength to leap across this time, so he merely dropped down one side and clambered up the other. Ico's journey back into the room where he had left Yorda was enough to bring tears of weariness to his eyes as he pulled himself hand-over-hand along the pipe. When he looked back on it later, he wondered how in the world he had managed to keep from falling off when his limbs already ached so much.

When he finally stepped back down onto the floor of the room, he found Yorda waiting there for him. Ico tried to smile, but his face seemed frozen with weariness. Yorda, seeming to see this, took his hand gently in her own. The shudder that ran up Ico's arm from her touch revived him slightly, somehow waking him up a little. His muscles were still sore, but he felt that now he could deal with it. Ico squeezed Yorda's hand in thanks. He didn't know if she had used magic, or whether it was simply the sight of her that had revived him, but all the same he was reminded that he would be nowhere without her.

Ico and Yorda made their way back into the room where the waterfall had been before. By this time, all the water had drained out of the pool. The room seemed empty and lonely somehow without the constant sound of rushing water. The two children made their way down the stairs to the floor of the room, for they had seen a pair of statue-doors behind the space the waterfall had occupied. The floor was slippery, and they stumbled a couple times, but they made it across. Ico noticed the wooden crate he had pushed into the water lying several feet away, and pushed it over to help them climb up a ledge to reach the statue-doors. The magic emerged from Yorda's chest, seeming to revive Ico even more, and the doors parted to let them through.

**The title for this chapter is self-explanatory, I think.**


	12. Return

**Author's Note: We're almost at the end, people! Please review if you're reading this. **

**Chapter Twelve – Return**

After passing through the statue-doors behind the waterfall, the two children made their way through stone passages and bridges made of rotting wood that clung to the sides of the cliff like leeches. Their pathway wound and zig-zagged, rose and dropped, and at every moment Ico expected something to break off and fall down to the sea far below. One moment they were clinging to the edge of a precarious bridge or balcony, the next passing through a brief tunnel that led right through the side of the island cliffs. The stone was crumbling, the wood warped, and more than once they met a large gap in the floor over which they had to leap. Ico always jumped across first, and held out his hand for Yorda, who followed him trustingly. Ico wasn't sure where this path was leading, and had a nagging suspicion it was simply taking them back the way they had come.

In fact, Ico was increasingly worried, and not just because he had no idea where they were going. What bothered him was that the spirits had not attacked for a very long time. Perhaps he should have been relieved and grateful, but it only tightened the knot of fear inside him. They had never let the children go without a struggle for this long; it was almost as though the spirits had given up. _With a mistress like that?_ Ico wondered skeptically. _She would never let us go this easily._

After leaping across another hole in the stone pathway, Ico and Yorda found themselves facing a dilemma. There was another gap right in front of them, much too large to jump across, and the bridge that had obviously been used to cross this gap before was now fixed in the upright position on the other side. Ico recognized this as a time he would have to leave Yorda and find another way. Casting his gaze about, he noticed a pipe below him and to the side. So Ico climbed down the wooden scaffolding that held up the stone, and came to a stone ledge underneath the beginning of the pipe. As he had before, Ico hooked his legs around the pipe and pulled himself along with his hands. He forced himself not to look down, because the ground was very far away.

He finally made it across, and climbed up a stone wall using broken or missing bits of stone for handholds and footholds. Clambering over the top, he found himself on a sort of balcony near the bridge. Huge, rickety pieces of scaffolding formed towers and bridges above the long drop to the floor of the large courtyard spanned by the bridge where Yorda waited for him. Ico stepped tentatively out onto the scaffolding, praying it wouldn't collapse beneath his weight. It was sturdier than it looked, however, so Ico proceeded to a chain hanging down from a higher part of the scaffolding. He had to jump up to reach it, and then swung back and forth until he had enough momentum to leap off and hit the upright bridge. Ico's weight pushed the bridge down over the gap, providing a way for Yorda to join him.

But where was Yorda? Ico's heart leapt into his throat when he didn't see her where he'd left her. He hurried across the bridge, calling her name, but there was no reply. Beginning to feel frantic, Ico raced back across the bridge and looked all over for any small patch of pure white that would announce her presence. She was nowhere in sight, but he did see an almost innocuous-looking patch of complete darkness on the stones of a balcony at the other side of the courtyard. Ico gasped, instantly recognizing this as a portal for the spirits, and whipped his gaze all about, sure he would see one with Yorda slung over its shoulders at any moment. But the courtyard was desolately empty, and Ico was alone.

Ico made a hasty decision: he would cross over to the shadow portal and wait there for Yorda and the spirits. The spirits were always trying to drag Yorda into one of their portals, so they would have to return to this one. At least...that was what Ico hoped. He now realized why they had waited so long to attack – they had been meaning to catch the children by surprise, and they had succeeded. Ico's heart was pounding with worry and his fingers were trembling with fright, but he turned his mind to the problem of getting across the large gap between the scaffolding where he now stood and the balcony where the portal was.

He noticed a tall, rickety tower of scaffolding just to his right, at the base of which lay a pile of the black exploding balls and a torch to light them. A hastily-formed plan sprang into his mind, and he ran over to the balls to execute it. Grabbing one of the large balls, he lit the wick in the torch's flame, and set it hastily down at the base of the tower. He ran to a safe distance, and watched as the ball exploded in a puff of tar-black smoke. At first, it didn't seem to do anything. But then the tower leaned precariously over to one side, and Ico could distinctly hear the sound of cracking wood. With a heave and a groan, the tower toppled completely over, crashing down onto the scaffolding. One long board fell over the part of the scaffolding on which he stood, bridging the gap to the balcony.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Ico's neck prickled, and he felt the rush of bone-marrow cold that announced the spirits' presence. Whirling around, he saw a large pack of them flying over the wall. One clutched a patch of blinding white that could only be Yorda, and Ico understood at once: Seeing the spirits, Yorda had fled back the way they had come, because Ico had been too far away to reach her side. Ico felt immensely guilty for not being at her side when they had come upon her, but at least he would be able to stop them before they pulled her into the portal.

Yet as the spirits passed overhead and Ico prepared to run across the makeshift bridge to meet them, he saw the patch of white falling down through the air. Whether they had dropped her on purpose or by accident, Ico never knew, but before he could even wonder he had cast his sword aside and leapt out to meet her. He had seen another chain hanging down to the left of the makeshift bridge, just close enough to jump to, and he grabbed onto this. His momentum carried him forward right as Yorda was falling down, a terrified expression on her face. Ico thrust his hand forward, grabbing hold of her hand as she reached out to him. He felt the sudden yank on his arm as her fall was pulled short, and his other hand slipped down a link or two of the chain. "Are you all right?" he called down to her.

Yorda, of course, could not understand him, but gazed up at him with fear, clutching his arm with both hands.

"Hold tight!" Ico cried, swinging over towards the balcony where the spirits now milled about. It was very hard to swing with only one hand holding onto the chain, while the other was holding Yorda, but he managed to do so enough to swing Yorda over the balcony and let go. Yorda dropped clumsily onto the stones, cowering as the spirits converged on her. Ico felt guilty again, swinging harder and leaping off the chain himself. He grabbed his sword from where it had landed on the stones, and whirled around to face the spirits.

Ico suddenly appreciated just how large the queen's army was. There were dozens of spirits crowded onto this small balcony, stumbling over one another in their haste to capture Yorda and incapacitate Ico. Ico yelled and swung his sword about, catching the spirit that had just picked up Yorda and throwing it to the floor. Yorda remained close to him throughout the battle, as Ico swung his sword and heard the satisfying crunch of steel against spirit. Yet there always seemed to be another spirit just behind the one he defeated, and Ico had a vague suspicion that reinforcements were coming all the time.

One spirit hit him in the stomach with its shadowy wing, and Ico stumbled back, his breath all but gone. Another clubbed him over the back of his head, and a third knocked his legs out from under him. Ico cried out in pain as the spirits continued to beat him to the ground, not giving him a chance to rise back onto his feet and fight them off. His lip was bleeding, and he had lost his sword somewhere. He found that he was completely helpless, as helpless as a mouse running from a cat.

When he felt the spirits backing off, and all the pain in his body receding, he wondered briefly if he had died and gone to heaven. But then he ran his tongue over a newly mended lip and raised his head to find Yorda standing before a pair of statue-doors Ico hadn't even noticed, watching him with concern. Another glance told him that the spirits were gone, the portal blowing away in the breeze. Ico slowly got to his feet, picked up his sword again, and crossed over to her. "Thank you," he murmured, taking her hand again and happily welcoming the tingle of magic.

Yorda's violet eyes were more expressive than any words would have been, as was the gentle squeeze she gave his hand. As they turned to step through the statue-doors and continue on their way, Ico reflected again on how he would be utterly lost without his glowing princess.

* * *

To his surprise, Ico found that the two of them had come full circle around the islands, back to the large courtyard before the gate. They now stood on a balcony opposite one they had been on before. Ico could tell they had almost reached their goal, so he hurried through the doorway to the large parapet that curved away to the right, an exact mirror image of the one on the other side of the courtyard. At the end of this parapet was another tower just like the other one.

Excitement goaded Ico on as he and Yorda trotted along the parapet. The end was finally in sight, their freedom nearly attained! When they reached the tower and Yorda opened the statue-doors, they entered to find that this tower was also an exact mirror image of the other one. Opening the large circle doors was no problem, since Ico already knew what to do, and they progressed quickly.

When he had opened all three circle doors, the light shot from the strange device on the cliff, through the tower, and hit the ball on the corner of this second parapet. Everything happened just as it had hours ago with the other side. Ico hurried out of the tower and down the length of the parapet, till he could lean over the side and see the main gate. Both doors of the immense gate were glowing golden. Ico wondered suddenly if this made any difference to them, but he couldn't dwell on such thoughts.

Gripping Yorda's hand tightly, he hurried along the winding way through rooms and courtyards they had already passed through, racing back to the courtyard with the main gate. He could feel Yorda's excitement in the palpitating tingle of her hand, and he knew his own heart was pounding wildly. He knew exactly where to go now, instead of stumbling around, blindly groping for the way on. Finally they entered the large courtyard where the spirits had nearly killed him. The wide expanse seemed much smaller as they raced across it to the open statue-doors and into the final courtyard. Ico's heart leapt into his throat as he tilted his head back and looked up at the gate. Would it open, or would the golden glow change nothing? Hardly daring to hope, he led Yorda towards the gigantic gate.

When Ico hesitated a few feet away from the huge doors, Yorda determinedly stepped forward. The white electric-like magic gushed out of her chest with more strength than ever before, surging forward like a river breaking through a dam. Ico, still holding her hand, felt the rush of magic through her skin, coursing from his fingers to his hand and up his arm. The force of her power threw Ico backwards, breaking his grip on her hand and sending him crashing onto the stones of the courtyard floor. He shook his head to clear it and pushed himself to a sitting position, watching Yorda in fear and awe. He could hardly feel his arm, it was tingling so much. White offshoots of magic danced across the stones of the walls and floor, and the light from the magic was dazzlingly bright, brighter even than the glowing gates.

Yorda's white face was almost completely obscured in the glow, but Ico could still see her determined eyes staring steadily at the slowly parting gates. The gigantic stone doors opened outward, inch by inch, and the effort Yorda was expending to do this was obviously immense. She wavered several times, but always summoned enough strength to continue. She drew more and more power from wherever it came from, and pushed it out towards the gates.

Ico also noticed that, as the gates opened, two halves of a long stone bridge extended over the vast expanse from the castle to the shore. One half slid out from the stone just beneath the gates, and the other from the cliff on the other side, slowly nearing each other till they would meet in the middle. Squinting past the white magic and the bridge, Ico could almost see old, crumbling stone pillars and realized that they were none other than the ones he had seen with the masked riders...had it been just this morning? Ico was overwhelmed by the thought. So much had happened to him in this castle that it seemed he had been in here for months. Yet the sun was just now setting in the west, beginning to draw a close on this very long, much too exciting day.

The two halves of the bridge met with a far-off thump, and the gates came to a halt, standing wide open. The magic retreated into Yorda's chest once more, and with a gasp of pain she sank to the ground. Springing into action, Ico leapt to his feet and rushed forward, crouching down beside her. He examined her with concern, but was hesitant to touch her; he had only just begun to feel his fingers again. "Are you okay?" he asked axiously.

Yorda raised her eyes weakly to meet his. Her breathing was ragged, and the faint whisper of her voice was softer than ever. "_Noma tisaks..._" she whispered, turning her gaze to the stone bridge: their path to freedom.

Ico followed her line of vision, staring out at the forested cliffs. For a prolonged, almost enchanted moment, neither of them moved or spoke, keeping their eyes fixed on the freedom promised them. It would almost have been too good to be true, had it not been so hard to reach this point. But Ico had experienced those hardships; they were fresh in his memory, and the aches of his body would not let him forget too easily. This was not the empty promise the open gates had been the first time. No, this was the real thing. They had – finally, after much pain and toil – acheived their goal.

Ico stood once more and held out his hand to Yorda. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again and took his hand, allowing him to help her up. Even the tingle of magic from her touch was weak and faint against his skin. She swayed on her feet, wincing and hunching over, gingerly clutching her chest. Ico bit his lip worriedly; he could only imagine how much pain she was in. For all he knew, she could have been hurt each time she opened the statue-doors. "We're almost out of here," he whispered to her, gripping her limp hand tightly. "Just hold on a little longer."

They set out across the bridge at a slow pace, Ico worriedly supporting his weakened friend. With every step, Yorda let out a small sigh or gasp of pain. Several times she wavered as though she was going to fall, but each time she managed to steady herself again with his help. He suddenly noticed once more how very cold her skin was. Unnaturally cold, as though she was about to slip away from this world forever. Shivering, he tried not to think of that and turned to face the cliffs of freedom instead. Now that they had come partway across the bridge, he could see a long line of statue-doors at the far end. He wondered if Yorda would have enough strength to open them when they reached the far side.

Presently Ico noticed a crack running through the bridge, showing where the two halves had met. They were halfway across now! Ico stepped over the crack, and in the precise moment when the children's clasped hands were directly over the crack, before Yorda had stepped over as well, one of the balls atop the parapets suddenly glowed white behind them. A single strand of the white magic shot out, like a stern, admonishing finger, towards Yorda. Ico felt another huge surge of magic shoot through Yorda's hand and up his arm. He was thrown forward by the force of it, his hold on her hand once again broken. He fell forward onto the stone of the bridge, but hurriedly leapt back to his feet, whirling around and gripping his sword with both hands. He was just in time to see Yorda drop to her knees and fall onto her face, too weak to even break her fall. After a moment, she slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position again.

Ico was about to rush to her side when he felt a tremor beneath his feet, which threw him off-balance. He fell over the side, but managed to grasp onto the edge of the bridge and pull himself up again. When he had, he saw to his horror that the halves of the bridge were separating. He was on one side of the rapidly widening gap, and Yorda was on the other. A glance at Yorda told him she would never make the jump, and the gap was widening with every second. Yorda knelt by the edge of the bridge and held out her hand to him. Ico didn't need to hesitate, or wonder what to do. He never weighed the options, never once considered that he might have a slim chance of gaining freedom if he ran towards the cliffs now. It never occurred to him that he might have a choice, for to him there was no choice. There was only one option, and he took it.

Gathering every ounce of strength he had left, Ico took a running start and jumped off his side of the bridge, limbs flailing as he sailed through the air. He realized as he neared the other side of the bridge that he would never make it. The gap was too wide. He reached for the edge as he started to fall the long distance to the sea crashing against the rocks of the bay. But almost before his descent had begun, a jolt in his right arm made him stop. The sword slipped from his hand and fell down out of sight, gone forever. Ico turned his gaze from it to the glowing white hand that clutched his wrist as tightly as possible.

Yorda looked down at him, her eyes deep wells of fear and sorrow, as she held him there. After all those times Ico had caught her hand when she made a jump, she was repaying the favor. But she was weaker than ever, and Ico knew the strength of her arm would not last long. He clutched desperately for a handhold, but the stone of the bridge was sheer and smooth, belying its age.

Yorda closed her eyes as though mustering her strength, and slowly heaved at his arm, pulling him up inch by inch. He tried not to swing too much, so as not to break her hold, but as he was raised higher he noticed the bridge had retracted into the castle almost completely. The huge, dark shadow of the castle was slowly creeping along the bridge, darker than any night. Ico felt a familiar chill enter his body, but this chill was much more powerful than that of the spirits. It felt like the complete absence of heat, and Ico realized with a feeling of horror and panic what it meant. The shadow crept up Yorda's legs, licking up her body like hungry black flames. Yorda met Ico's gaze with the same emotions he felt: horror, desperation, panic, dread... She pulled his arm up more, but then the shadow crept along her arm, freezing it into place. The shadows behind her bunched together and became the imperious form of the queen in all her dark glory.

Now Yorda was completely black except for her face and the hand that held onto Ico. She closed her eyes, and Ico thought he saw a tear run down from the corner of her eye. The darkness devoured her hand as well, and he felt the touch of life and magic leave it. It became as cold as the stone, and abruptly let go of him. Ico's hand slipped from hers and he began the long fall to his death. The shadow had almost completely covered her face, but there was just enough left for her to whisper after him, "_Nono...mori._" Her voice faded as the darkness covered her completely, and she became smaller and smaller as Ico dropped farther and farther away.

No thoughts ran through Ico's head as he fell, no emotions filled his heart. He felt as frozen as Yorda, until an explosion of pain turned the entire world as black as night.

**This chapter is so named because the two of them are returning to the gates once again, though it isn't quite the same as it was the first time.**


	13. Riposte

**Author's Note: I know probably no one is reading this by now, but I am perhaps most proud of this chapter. Please review if you are reading this. **

**Chapter Thirteen – Riposte**

_Yorda stood on the balcony, resting her elbows on the railing. She stared out unblinkingly over the waters of the bay, to the horizon that molded seamlessly with the sea. The chill wind buffeted her, blowing her skirt and ruffling her hair, but she did not move. She stared intently, almost as if searching for something._

_Suddenly she straightened, her face lighting up with joy. A white dove fluttered up from one of the numerous courtyards of the castle and soared up into the sky. Yorda stretched out her hands to it, as though begging it to take her away with it, but the dove flew unconcernedly past her, higher and higher into the sky, until it was lost from sight. Yorda's arms dropped back to her sides and her face fell once more. Slowly, dragging her feet, she walked towards the door at the end of the balcony. She stopped as though struck by a sudden idea, and turned to look out over the bay once more. This time, she looked in the opposite direction: the forested cliffs. She approached the railing once more, the intent look coming back onto her face._

_Yorda was suddenly creeping through a courtyard in the dead of night. Torches lined the stone pathway that cut through the middle of the courtyard, but she avoided them, keeping to the shadows though her bright glow made hiding impossible. The main gate was wide open, and the stone bridge stretched across the water to the cliffs. Yorda paused, catching her breath, in the shadow of the gate, and then dashed out onto the bridge. She ran as fast as she could, but before she had even reached the middle, the bridge began to retract. Thrown off-balance, she fell to her knees and stared, stricken, at the receding cliffs._

_Her hands clenched into fists and her eyes rounded with terror as she heard an almost inaudible sound behind her. Slowly, she turned her head, looking over her shoulder. A tall, dark form towered above her, crackling with cold anger, so still and so furious that Yorda seemed frozen to the spot. The darkness that made up the queen's garment spread and surrounded Yorda's small, frail body, enclosing her in darkness, in freezing cold, in lonely isolation and iron imprisonment. Yorda sobbed and whispered for mercy, but the queen was unyielding. As the bars of her cage clanged into place, Yorda drew her knees up, hugging them close to her body, and rested her forehead against them._

_The queen frowned and left the five-year-old girl to the loneliness of her exile._

* * *

Ico let out a low moan as he slowly opened his eyes. His entire body ached, as though he had suffered a beating. For nearly a minute, he could only lie still and listen to the complaints of his body. Gradually, however, he became aware of his surroundings. He found that he was lying on something that felt like wood, and rain was dashing against him in a steady downpour. He was cold, and wet, and had never felt so alone – not even when the riders had abandoned him in his coffin.

Slowly, he remembered what had happened before he had blacked out, and despair threatened to drown him. Yorda... He had lost Yorda. After all those battles he had won against the spirits, after all those times he had promised himself he wouldn't let them take her, the queen had snatched her up as easily as anything. Who knew where Yorda was now? The look in her eyes as the shadow had overtaken her... Just thinking of that made tears well up in Ico's eyes, and he began to cry weakly, his ribs hurting as he sobbed. He cried for Yorda, he cried for himself, but most of all he cried for the void of distance between them.

It took a great deal of effort to roll from his stomach to his back, but he managed to do so, and found himself staring up into the rain. Turning his head from side to side, while causing him to wince in pain, made it possible for him to see where he was. Many thousands of feet above him were the gates from which he had fallen – fallen onto what seemed to be one of many large, round wooden cages hanging by chains from the side of the cliff above. Ico tried not to think of the purpose for these cages, and instead thought of what a blessed coincidence it was that he had fallen on one of them instead of dropping the entire distance to the sea. The impact would surely have killed him if he had.

And as Ico lay in the rain, staring up at the great distance he had fallen, he began to marvel more and more that he was even alive. It was miraculous, really, that he hadn't broken his back or fallen on his neck or even survived the fall but rolled off the cage to his death. Miraculous... Ico closed his eyes against the raindrops and pondered this. Could it really only be a coincidence that he was alive? A mistake, a happenstance? Just as when the stone had crumbled just enough for his coffin to tip over and release him, chance had allowed him to continue on. But no... It wasn't just chance. What were the odds that Yorda would drop him at exactly the right moment for him to land on one of these cages? To say that such a thing was only coincidence was foolish.

"Haven't you forsaken me?" Ico whispered to the heavens. He was a horned child, a curse. Yet the hand of God had been more tangible this day than the drops of rain hitting his face. _To think that a God like you would care for an abomination like me..._ Ico wasn't positive anymore that the wetness of his cheeks was only due to the rain. Everything made sense now, and Ico wondered how he could have doubted it before. It had been divine will that he was born a horned child, that he had been taken to this castle, that he had escaped his coffin. It had been divine will that led him to Yorda, to the truest companion and only friend he had ever known. Divine will had guided his footsteps to the main gate, not once but twice, and it had been the pure will of God that had caused Yorda to drop him precisely where he could land safely and continue his quest. Ico felt humbled and bolstered all at once; he could sense God's warm hand enclosing him in safety. Everything that had happened to him, everything that would happen to him, was all according to plan, a plan much greater than any he could devise. But did that plan include Yorda? Did she have a place in his destiny?

Ico heaved himself upright, his body protesting but his heart eager to go on. At first, his head swam as the blood rushed into it, but he clutched the chain his cage hung from until he felt steady once more. In that time, Ico's thoughts focused on Yorda. Where was she? What was the queen doing to her? Was she being punished or imprisoned? Ico knew, as well as he knew his own name, that the only option left to him was to go back into the castle and find her. He had begun his quest with the longing for freedom, but he knew now that the free air of the cliffs would taste sour unless Yorda was at his side and could taste it too. The only question in his mind was: how? How could he find Yorda, and rescue her? Most likely it would mean meeting the queen a third time, for each time they had tried to escape, she had stopped them. If they were to ever be free of this prison of stone and iron, something would have to be done about the queen.

Ico tried not to think about what in the world he thought he could do to the queen, focusing instead on finding a path that would lead him into the castle, and thus to Yorda. For starters, he decided, he would have to get off this cage. He could see an opening in the side of the cliff, a sort of cave with a thin stream of water running out of it, tumbling down as a waterfall to the bay far below. And the cages were positioned just close enough that he thought he might be able to leap from one to another...

Ignoring the weakness of his legs, Ico took a running start and leapt off his cage to the next one. He slammed down onto it and nearly slipped off, but managed to grip onto the wet wood with his fingers and clamber back up. Once he had regained his breath, he jumped to the next one, and the next, until he dropped down onto the stone of the opening in the cliff. Here he was shielded from the rain, and paused again to rest. However, he found he couldn't sit still for long; he kept thinking of Yorda and what she must be doing at that moment, so he got back to his feet and followed the stream through the stone tunnel to its source.

Farther into the tunnel, the stream widened out to become a large pool of water that stretched out to the far side of a large underground cavern. The thinnest of shores circled the pool, only widening out at the back end of the pool. Taking a deep breath, Ico jumped into the deeper part of the pool, which closed over his head momentarily before he bobbed back up to the surface again.

The cold of the water stole Ico's breath away, and for a few moments he thought perhaps his lungs had frozen or his heart had stopped. Finally, however, he managed to gasp some air back into his lungs, and his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. No one had ever taught Ico how to swim, or even how to tread water, so Ico had to clutch at the stone shore and pull himself along with his hands. His entire body felt numb with cold, but he forced himself to inch along the side of the large circular pool. Once when he paused for a moment to rest, he looked about to examine the large cavern the pool was in. On the side opposite him, a large waterwheel was turning in a steady downpour of water that dropped down from the ceiling, turning many large wooden wheels that clanked and clattered about their unknown task.

Ico forced himself onward until he had reached the place where the shore widened out. He dragged himself out of the freezing water, shivering all over. Hardly even allowing himself time to catch his breath and wring out his clothes, Ico hurried on his way. Following the line of the cavern wall, he came to an opening that led out to the other side of the island. An extremely narrow, winding footpath zigzagged up the side of the cliff, almost completely worn away by the weather. Without a second thought, Ico started out on this footpath. The rain lashed against him, the wind tore at his clothes, and he nearly lost his footing several times, but nothing deterred him for more than a moment. As he climbed, as the path dwindled away to nothing more than narrow ledges and crumbling handholds and footholds, the only thought in Ico's mind was: Yorda. It didn't matter that he slipped and nearly fell time after time. He didn't care that he was soaked all through, or that his limbs ached, or that his hands and face were muddy from the wet earth of the cliff. All that mattered was that he find his way to Yorda's side.

Ico never knew how long he spent on the side of the cliff. The minutes blended into hours with nothing to tell of their passing but the next ledge he hauled himself onto. The monotony only ended when he found himself stepping off the last ledge onto a large, rusted metal pipe spanning the distance between this island and the next one. Another pipe was so close to it that they were nearly touching. Ico paused for a moment to rest, and looked up at the other island. He saw a tall tower atop that island, and thought it looked rather familiar. Then he saw the broken bridge above him, and suddenly remembered the bridge that had broken beneath him that morning. It had happened right after he had met Yorda, at the very beginning of their quest. That tall tower was the very one Yorda had been caged in before.

Hope rose in Ico's chest, hope mingled with fear. Perhaps Yorda was in there now, as she had been before. Even if she was not, he supposed he could get to the rest of the castle from there. Ico started across, careful not to slip on the wet metal, but going as fast as he could. Now he could see hope in this fruitless quest.

The twin pipes led Ico into the heart of the island, through a narrow passage carved from the earth and stone, till they emerged in the interior of the tall tower. Ico looked around with a sense of deja vu. In the middle of this immense stone tower was a smaller, round-walled room just as tall as the tower. Ico peeked over the side of the ledge he was standing on and saw the floor a long, long way down. He started down the stairs that wound around in a spiral about the round walls of the tower, heading for the ground. Several parts of the staircase had crumbled away, leaving gaps Ico had to leap over, but for the most part they were sturdy and intact. The tower was wide enough that Ico didn't get dizzy as he descended the spiral, and finally he came to the bottom.

He instantly recognized this place from that morning, when the riders had brought him inside the castle. The first statue-doors he had ever seen stood blocking the way into the tall, round room that led to the crypt. The doors were closed, and Ico suddenly realized with a sinking feeling that he had no way of opening them. Without Yorda, the entire castle was closed to him. For the first time, his resolve wavered. Ico put a hand to his head and sat down abruptly on a nearby pile of rubble. How in the world could he hope to save Yorda unless he had her powers? He looked at his hands, remembering the tingle he felt at the merest touch of Yorda's skin.

He longed to feel that tingle again, to take her cold hand in his once more, to hear her breathy voice and watch her frolic about in the sunlight, chasing doves. He was so alone without her! The silence was devastating, the stillness and loneliness unbearable. Tears threatened to fill his eyes, but Ico hastily got to his feet. There had to be _something_ he could do, _some_ way he could get into the castle!

And then it hit him. The sword. The riders possessed no more magic than he, so they had had to use a sword to open the statue-doors. Excitement coursing through him, Ico hurried out of the tower to the little dock where he and the riders had come in the boat. A spare boat just like the one they had used was pulled up high on the shore, but that wasn't what Ico had come for. He remembered that the chief rider had sent one of the other riders off to the side to get the sword, so he moved into the shadows to the left, groping about blindly. A short path led him to a small pedestal. Ico felt around with his hands, and his fingers met a long, straight object. He grasped a straight handle and pulled the sword out of its ivory sheath. The blade glowed in the darkness with the same white glow as Yorda and her magic, and strange symbols seemed to dance across the metal, slipping and sliding as if they were on ice. A short chain hung from the hilt, and offshoots of the white magic sparked along the edges of the blade.

Leaving the scabbard behind, Ico hurried back to the statue-doors and brandished the sword in front of them. He felt a shudder run through the sword, and magic poured from the blade just as it would from Yorda's chest. The statue-doors obediently moved aside, and Ico entered the room. He noticed a switch to one side, and pulled it. A symbol glowed on the floor just as it had before, and the floor moved upwards. Ico clutched his stomach at the first lurch, feeling rather sick, and he was very relieved when the floor jolted to a stop.

He opened the next set of statue-doors, and stepped out of the little room to find himself in the crypt where he had started this whole adventure. Everything looked the same as it had the first time he had entered the room. The two large shelves lining the walls were the same, and there were still dozens and dozens of coffins where many horned children had been sacrificed in the generations before. Directly before him were the two flights of stairs leading up to a landing, and another flight of stairs that didn't quite connect that landing with the mighty door above it.

Ico had come full circle in one day; now he was right back where he started. _No, not completely,_ he reminded himself. Now he had the magical sword, and he would never enter any of the coffins again as long as he lived. At first, Ico thought the crypt was as empty as it had been the last time he was there, but when he walked forward to the main part of the hall, he saw movement at the far end. Black shapes moved about on the lower landing of the stairs against the wall. Ico slowly, cautiously moved closer, looking up at them warily. The spirits almost seemed to be dancing in a circle, like barbaric savages around a victory fire. There was something in the middle, but Ico couldn't see what it was between the spirits' shadowy limbs.

The spirits didn't seem to notice him, even as he carefully ascended the flight of steps towards them. They made no sound, but Ico was sure that if they could, they would be cackling and shrieking with fiendish delight. Then, when Ico had almost reached the landing, he caught a glimpse of the thing in the middle of the circle and froze in horror. It was Yorda.

**Riposte: (noun) 1. a quick, sharp return in speech or action; counterstroke. 2. (Fencing) a quick thrust given after parrying a lunge.**


	14. Entity

**Author's Note: Yes, all ye people who aren't reading this. This is the climax chapter. **

**Chapter Fourteen – Entity**

Sudden, fierce rage boiled up from deep inside Ico's heart, and he raced forward, yelling at the top of his lungs. The spirits stopped their dancing and fled in fear after one look at the sword. Ico managed to catch several before they departed, and each one immediately disappeared in a puff of smoke as soon as the blade touched them. When the spirits had scattered, Ico rushed forward to where Yorda sat on the stones, shoulders hunched, staring blankly at her hands.

"Yorda!" he called, holding his hand out to her. But she did not reply, and suddenly Ico realized something that turned his insides cold: she was no longer glowing. The pure white of her skin and dress had faded to a dull grey, like the stone all around. She did not move, not even to breathe, and when Ico tentatively reached out and touched her hand, he felt no answering tingle. It was as though she had been turned into a statue, frozen in the last position he had seen her in. "Yorda!" he called again in anguish, knowing she could neither hear nor answer.

Tears blurred his vision, but they were tears of anger. Gritting his teeth, he spun around and charged back down the stairs, swinging his sword at the spirits who still lingered about the hall. They tried to escape, some of them fluttering into the air, but he chased after them and smote them down. He couldn't stand their gloating, glowing eyes staring at him, or the faces that would surely be leering at him if they were there. He yelled till he was hoarse, and tears leaked down his cheeks, tears that did nothing to ease the torment of his heart. To think that he had come all this way, suffered and risked so much, only to be unable to do anything to save his friend! It was more than he could bear.

Yet gradually, his steps slowed and he lowered his sword. He took a closer look at the spirits in the room, and realized that they were different from the spirits that had come after him and Yorda earlier. Those spirits had been large and aggressive, like broad-chested men, but these were small and made no move to attack him. Indeed, as he looked about himself, he thought they almost looked playful. They would flutter into the air and circle about each other, as though dancing or playing ring-around-the-rosey. Some chased each other about, or tried to sneak up behind him, fluttering away when he turned to look at them. Ico realized that they were only about as tall as he was, and the horn-like protrusions on their heads looked just like his own horns.

Ico spun about in surprise when he felt the close presence of a spirit, and accidentally caught it on his sword. As he watched, the spirit dissolved into puffs of smoke, which were whisked away towards a nearby coffin. They sank through the stone cover, and the symbols on the coffin began to glow. Ico gasped, realizing suddenly what these particular spirits had once been: horned children like himself. Many of the coffins about the room were already glowing, containing the spirits he had already struck.

Was he confining them in the prisons they had once died in? Did they want to go there, or did that mean entering a new torment? Confusion swamped Ico as he faced the remainders of his dead kinsmen. Should he let the rest of the spirits go, or would they thank him for ending their incomplete afterlives? Ico didn't know what the right thing to do was, but he couldn't stand the thought of letting them go free if they had in fact been preying on Yorda. If they were innocent, on the other hand, perhaps he would be preventing them from continuing a ghostly, tormented existence. He hoped this would be the case. Heart heavy, Ico chased after the rest of the spirits and sent them back to their coffins.

When he had finished, Ico stood in the middle of the hall looking around at all of the fifty-odd coffins, all but his own glowing with the magic of the castle. Then he heard a rumble and turned to see a few final stairs appearing out of thin air at the top of the staircase that led up to the long line of statue-doors on the highest level of the hall. Now the way was clear for Ico to pass on to a part of the castle he had never seen before. He slowly mounted the steps again and paused at Yorda's side. He put a hand on her shoulder, shuddering at how cold and lifeless it was. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and climbed the last flight of stairs. Taking a deep breath and tamping down the powerful sense of foreboding that threatened to overtake him, he held the sword out and let the magic push the statue-doors aside.

Ico knew instantly from the size and grandeur of the room that it was the royal hall. Strange; usually the royal hall would be the heart of the castle, yet this one was at the very back. Dust lay heavy on the stones that made up the walls, ceiling, and floor, but it did not diminish the harshly regal air of the room. It was so cold that Ico could see his breath. His footsteps echoed loudly around the empty room as he slowly walked forward, and he tried to walk more quietly.

It was a very plain, very empty royal hall. There were no tapestries boasting of adventurous hunts or majestic feasts, no statues lauding former rulers or famous saints. There was nothing here but the long length of the room, a tall-backed throne, and two blocks of stone covered with the same strange symbols that were on the coffins and the sword. Ico passed between them with a shiver; he felt as though the symbols were wide eyes, watching his passing. He walked right up to the large stone throne at the back of the room, and looked around. There was no one there; when Ico came to a stop and held his breath, there was no sound. He could only hear his blood pulsing in his ears, so he turned and started back the way he had come.

He had hardly gone five paces when a voice spoke behind him. "Wait."

Ico froze, then slowly turned around. He didn't need to wonder who it was; he had almost been expecting this. He turned, and saw the queen lounging casually in the throne as if she had been there all the time.

The moment he saw her, the anger that had abated somewhat seared through Ico's body. He thought of the spirits she had sent out to capture him and Yorda; he remembered the times she had cut off their escape and put an end to their hope. He remembered how frightened Yorda had looked whenever the queen had appeared; he remembered the dream he had had of Yorda's imprisonment; he remembered every word, every gesture, that this queen had made to harm and discourage them. It was because of this hateful queen that he had been separated from his friend, and it was her magic that had made Yorda cold and unresponsive. Clutching his sword, he raced back at the queen, shouting, "What did you do to her?!"

"Silence, boy," she snapped, her lip curling in disdain. Ico's steps faltered, and his feet came to a stop as though her words had been a spell. "You are too late. My body has become too old and won't last much longer, but Yorda is going to grant me the power to be resurrected. Becoming my spiritual vessel is the fulfillment of her destiny! The next time her body wakes, Yorda will be no more and I shall be young again. I have been preparing for this for centuries, and I will not let a foolish horned boy such as yourself interfere." The queen's eyes became as hard as diamonds, but not half so pretty. "Now, put down the sword and leave. It is what she would want you to do."

Ico hung his head, his heart sinking to his toes as he remembered Yorda's still, cold body in the crypt. _Yorda will be no more._ Despair and grief rose like bile in Ico's throat, choking him and silencing him. His friend, his one and only companion, was as good as dead. All his hopes for freedom had been dashed to pieces. Truly, what was left for him except to leave as the queen had ordered? Yorda would never be able to walk along the cliffs of freedom as he knew she had wanted desperately to do. _It is what she would want you to do._ Ico was on the verge of turning around when he thought about this. _Would_ Yorda want him to allow this to happen? Surely, she had no more desire to have her body taken over than he did. Just the thought of the queen's soul tainting Yorda's body made him angry all over again. How could the queen say Yorda would want him to abandon and betray her?

With a cry of rage, he started for the queen, sword raised high, but she gestured with one hand and he was thrown off his feet. Ico flew almost the entire length of the room, falling heavily on his head. He felt and heard a crack, followed by a burst of unbearable pain. For a moment or two, he could only lie face-down on the stone, trying to grapple with the pain in the side of his head. He looked to the side and saw a growing puddle of blood. A foot or so beyond that was a piece of bone that Ico realized with mounting horror was one of his own horns. It had broken completely off.

The queen slowly got to her feet – if she even had feet anymore. The crackling black substance that made up her garment and hair hid everything but her face and hands from sight. "Foolish boy," she sneered, her chilling voice echoing about the hall. "Do you want to die so much? You have been nothing but a nuisance to me from the moment you set foot inside my castle. I had intended to let you go, but you have irked me one time too many. Still, before you die, I would like to thank you for herding the spirits in my crypt for me. I could have done so myself, of course, but you made it much easier for me to harness their power for my soul transfer. Perhaps, to show my gratitude, I will make you into my own personal servant when you are dead. We shall see."

She suddenly thrust her hand forward, and a wall of magic shot towards the boy lying on the floor. With a cry, Ico pushed himself up and grabbed the sword lying on the floor behind him. He brought it up in front of him, expecting to be blasted to bits by the magic. But the magic hit the sword and swerved away to either side of him. Ico grasped the hilt with both hands as he felt a shudder run through the blade. Slowly, he got to his feet and faced the queen, his sword held up to protect him. She sent another wave of magic at him, but he deflected it easily. He wasn't sure what would happen to him if the magic hit him, but he was certain it would not be pleasant.

Ico ran up the length of the hall, knocking aside the queen's next attack, and swung his sword at her. A bubble-like shield appeared around her; when the sword hit it, the weapon twisted out of his grip and went skittering across the floor. Ico dashed after it even as the queen sent another wave of magic at him. He was barely able to grab the sword and hold it in front of him before the magic hit it, and the force of the blow nearly made him drop it again. This time, Ico noticed that the magic swerved around the strange stones in the middle of the room as well. A sliver of hope began to emerge in his mind, especially when he saw that the queen had sat down in her throne again.

Once again, Ico charged towards the queen, swinging his sword at the magical shield, which briefly flashed red when he struck it. This time, the sword flew off in the other direction. Ico scurried into the lee of one of the large stones and winced as the magic howled harmlessly past him to either side. His sword was not far from the protection of the stone, so he made a break for it as soon as the magic had passed.

He whirled back around, prepared to deflect another wave of magic, but this time the queen raised both hands above her head. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but suddenly Ico gasped. The large stones in the middle of the room lifted into the air as though raised by giants' hands, and then hurtled straight towards him. With a yell, he dodged away, but the stones chased after him, swerving clumsily in midair. Ico ran for his life, but he wasn't looking where he was going, so he tripped on a loose stone and fell face-first onto the floor, his sword flying out of his grip again.

Looking up in horror, he saw that the large stones were directly above him, preparing to drop down and beat him to death. Yelling again, Ico rolled to the side, feeling the tremors that ran through the floor when the stones crashed down behind him. He rolled over to where his sword lay off to the side, and grabbed it as he rolled up onto his knees. The stones were already bearing down on him once more, and all he could do was raise the sword in front of him and wait for his death.

When the stones were no more than a foot away, white magic danced along the blade and shot out towards the stones, stopping them in midair. Ico gaped up at them in frozen astonishment, watching the symbols on every side light up with a bluish glow. He could almost taste the magic in the air, feel it tingling against his scalp like the touch of Yorda's hand. The sword in his hands was shaking and glowing, the magic cascading off it like a fountain. Then Ico looked past the stones, at the queen sitting in her throne. He couldn't see her expression this far away, but something about her black, crackling dress seemed very angry.

Ico rose onto his shaking legs and, following a hunch but not completely sure what he was doing, jabbed his sword in the queen's direction. The giant stones slowly turned around, then shot towards the throne, the magic from the sword pushing them onwards. With a horrific crash, they hit the magic shield around the queen and crumbled to a thousand tiny bits, which clattered onto the floor. Ico's heart sank, for the queen still sat on her throne, unperturbed. And as he was standing there, she struck out once again with a blast of magic. He barely managed to defend himself in time, and the sword twisted out of his grip again as though it was something alive, twirling through the air and becoming embedded in the floor near the throne.

This time, Ico knew he was going to die. He ran up to his sword and tugged at it with all his might, but the blade was wedged tightly in a crack. The queen was only two or three feet away, watching him imperiously behind her shield. She chuckled, letting him pull uselessly at his sword for several more moments. "I told you to leave," she said, raising her hand for a fatal attack.

Just at that moment, Ico felt the stones of the floor give, and the sword came free. His arm swung back with the momentum, and hit the queen's shield. This time, however, the sword did not fly out of his grip or glance off the magical shield. The sword slowly sank into the shield, as though into thick mud, and Ico couldn't pull it back out. He desperately tugged at it, but it only sank deeper. The queen's face, distorted by the bulge of the shield, curled into a vicious smile. Ico tugged harder, but the blade had sunk in almost up to the hilt, and he knew it wouldn't stop there. First his hand would sink in, then his arm, then his whole body. And who knew what the queen would do then?

Ico's gaze suddenly alighted on a piece of the large stones that were now lying in a heap about the queen's feet. In a last, desperate attempt to harm the queen, he let go of the sword just as it sank completely into the shield. He grabbed handfuls of the shattered stones, throwing them blindly into the shield, where they were instantly swallowed up. At the third handful, the sword began to glow with the same white magic, brighter and brighter until Ico had to close his dazzled eyes. With a sudden blast, Ico was thrust backwards several feet, and the bits of stone rained down on him. He flung his arms over his head to protect himself, and when the rain of stone was over, he looked up at the queen. Now the shield was gone, and she was unprotected. She seemed to realize this at the same moment, and hastily sent out another blast of magic.

Ico scrambled away, tearing down the hall towards the glittering sword, which was now embedded in the floor near the door. Ico ran as fast as his legs would allow, faster than he had ever run before, and still he only just managed to duck behind the upright sword before the magic crashed around it, howling on either side of his narrow shield. He pulled the sword out of the stone and ran back towards the queen. As he came closer, he could see the fear written across her face, the fear and the hatred. She sent wave after wave of magic at him, one right after the other, but Ico held his sword out before him and it swerved away from him. She conjured up a tearing wind, but he pressed on. She could not stop him, and they both knew it.

Ico let out a yell as he ran the last few steps and plunged the sword right into the queen's chest. He felt the same sort of crunch as he did whenever he hit a spirit, and felt the tip of the sword become embedded in the throne, pinning the queen down. Her face was close to his, and for a moment they looked into each other's eyes. Though the queen's eyes were violet like Yorda's, they carried none of the princess's gentleness or grace. Nothing was in their depths but hatred, bitterness, and malice. She might call herself Yorda's mother, but Ico could see that she could never be a mother to anyone.

"Meddlesome boy..." she rasped, her voice sounding metallic and harsh. "Yorda will never escape from this castle. Even if you take...my life..." The blinding white of the queen's face sank into the pitch black of her body, and she exploded in a violent burst of magic that threw Ico backwards. Before Ico even had time to register that the queen was dead, or feel the whiplash of her dying breath, he crashed headfirst into a wall, and everything went dark.

**"Entity" is the title of the track on the soundtrack that plays when you fight this battle against the queen. I think the word accurately portrays the feeling of this chapter.**


	15. Sunrise

**Author's Note: Okay, this is it. The last chapter of the novelisation. One of the _big_ reasons I like ICO so much is because of its ending - the last five minutes, especially. I would say this is probably my favorite ending to any video game ever (and that's saying a lot). Oh, and I think the title for this chapter is pretty self-explanatory, once you've read it.  
**

**Chapter Fifteen – Sunrise**

The castle began to tremble in the aftershock of the queen's death, and the tremors did not cease. Indeed, they only grew in power. Chunks of the ceiling came crashing down, dust falling like rain. They avoided the boy lying on the floor, as if afraid of the one who had slain the mistress of the castle. The boy lay with his head in a pool of his own blood, red as the shirt he wore. His horns were nothing but stumps now; one horn lay somewhere towards the middle of the room, and the other was next to his limp body where it had broken off when he hit the wall. The horned child was horned no more.

Outside the royal hall, in the crypt, the only sound was the rumbling of the walls. The rigid form of the princess remained in the same position as before, still and unmoving. Yet after a minute or so had passed, the glowing symbols on the coffins flashed out brighter than before. White magic shot from each of the coffins towards Yorda's statue-like form. The glow of the magic swamped her, hiding her from sight with a rushing sound like a thousand doves taking flight. The magic lit up the disc set into the floor, where the queen had been planning to transfer her soul into Yorda's body. But the queen was not there, so the magic rushed over and into Yorda's greyish body. When the glow finally faded away, a girl sat there in the same position as the statue-like one had. But this girl was not stone-grey, nor blinding white. She was pitch black, with a few crackling offshoots splintering about her limbs. No face could be seen, but the outline was unmistakably Yorda's.

Yorda sat there for a moment, turning her head about to take in her surroundings. She was no longer kneeling at the edge of the retracting bridge, watching Ico fall down the infinite distance to the sea. Now she was in the shaking crypt, looking about at the fifty-four coffins that lined the walls. She looked down at her dark body, so black it almost looked blue, and moved her fingers experimentally. Then she turned to look at the doors to the throne room behind her, open wide like a mouth threatening to swallow the entire world. Slowly, Yorda got to her feet and faced the door, listening closely for any sound. None came, so she slowly made her way up the stairs.

In the throne room, Yorda took in the destruction: the pieces of the ceiling cluttering the floor, the sword embedded in the throne at the back of the room, and the chipped pieces of magical stones heaped about the feet of the throne. Yorda understood almost instantly what had happened, and searched the corners of the room for confirmation. Sure enough, a familiar form lay on his face off to one side, unmoving. Yorda stepped up to him and knelt down at his side. She tentatively reached out with her dark fingers and gingerly touched the stump of one of his horns, which was bathed in red. She looked at him closely, and saw that his chest still rose and fell, though he made no other movement.

Yorda gently turned Ico over so he lay on his back, slung his arm around her neck, and picked him up easily in her arms as though she did this every day. Standing up, she paused for one last look at the throne room and the sword stuck in the throne, then made her way out of the room. Yorda walked slowly, unhurriedly, down the stairs into the crypt, past the coffins, which no longer glowed, and into the little room beyond. Shifting Ico's weight slightly, she pulled the lever and the floor descended to the bottom of the tower. She made her way out to the little dock and saw that the water level had risen. Either that...or the island was sinking.

The spare boat that was always dragged up high on the shore was now floating in shallow water. Yorda gently set Ico into the bottom of the boat, taking care with his wounded head. She looked down at his face one last time, remembering all the expressions she had seen on that face in their one day together. She had seen him angry, afraid, anguished... He had expressed relief, sorrow, and concern so vividly that Yorda had almost not needed to know his language. She remembered his hand, so warm and comforting, closing about her own, and trailed her fingers wistfully along his palm.

Yorda so wished she could join him in freedom! She wanted to walk hand-in-hand with him on the forested cliffs and never have to worry about bars or walls that would pen her in. She longed to cast aside the fear that she had always known in this castle, and she ached to remain by the side of her one and only friend. But she didn't belong with him. She could see that now. She was a monster, just like the queen of this castle, and she didn't deserve to experience freedom. But Ico... He had tried so hard to free her. He had risked his own life, time and time again, to ensure her safety. She wanted to thank him somehow, and the only way she could think to do that was to give him the deepest desire of his heart: freedom.

But Yorda knew she must not tarry long. The water level had already risen alarmingly, and she knew he had to get out from under the island before the opening sank beneath the surface. So she grabbed the side of the boat and pulled it along with her as she waded out, stopping when the water was waist-deep. She gave the boat a little push and watched it float slowly out into the bay beyond. When it passed out of the little opening in the side of the island, Yorda whispered, "_Arak quias._"

The castle was collapsing in on itself, the walls falling inward, the islands sinking down into the water. The bridge in the room with the chandeliers slipped down into the dark opening below; the windmill toppled over the side of the cliff and into the sea; the coffins tipped over, breaking open and spilling the bones of long-dead children out onto the floor. Flocks of doves fluttered up into the sky as the courtyards where they roosted crumbled into the sea. The sun was just rising, dawning on a new day, proclaiming the end of one era...and the beginning of another.

* * *

Ico blinked as the newly-risen sun glared down on his closed eyelids. He shaded his eyes with one hand and looked at the wooden surface directly in front of his nose. The sound of the surf beating against a shore was all he could hear, besides the lone call of a seagull far away. His mind was sleepily blank, devoid of thought, as when one wakes from a midday nap in the sun. Ico could tell, however, from the freshness of the salty air that it was morning. But he couldn't remember where he was, or why he was there. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember; it was so comfortable to just lie in the sun like this, listening to the waves rolling up onto the shore...

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but he was already awake, and becoming more alert by the minute. Finally, Ico sat up and saw that he was in a little boat, washed up onto a beach of sparkling golden sand stretching in both directions. Ico got up and vaulted over the side of the boat, feeling refreshed, but as he did his head began to swim, and he toppled to the sand. Pain throbbed on both sides of his head, and once the world stopped spinning around, Ico reached up and experimentally touched the spots where his horns had once been, wincing in pain when his fingers met the fresh wounds. His horns were nothing but stumps of bone now; when he looked at his shadow, he thought that perhaps if he let his hair grow a bit more, it would cover even those remains up.

Getting shakily to his feet, Ico's memories began to come back. He remembered how his horns had broken off in the fight against the queen, but after that everything was blank until he had woken up in this boat. How had he come here? Who had sent him to this beach? Once again, he found himself alive when by all rights he ought to have died. He hadn't expected to survive after the battle with the queen, but it seemed his destiny continued on even after that ordeal. Still...unless the hand of God had literally swooped down and placed him here, he couldn't understand how he had come to be on this beach.

Ico turned around to look out at the bay, but what he saw made him draw in his breath with a gasp. The bay was the same shape; it looked the exactly as it had before, except now it was empty, the view unobstructed all the way to the horizon. The mighty, impossible structure; the tall, narrow islands; the castle and everything in it...all of that was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. Ico was astonished at how _clean_ everything looked, now that the castle was gone. He felt as though someone had been breathing down his neck for the past twenty-four hours, and had only now gone away.

All the same... Ico realized that Yorda must have sunk with the castle. True, she wouldn't have been able to speak or hold his hand in the petrified state he had last seen her in, but he would have liked to rescue her anyway. It felt melodramatic to be standing on this beach, free and hornless, with no one to share his freedom with. After all that trouble, he was to be left just as he had started: alone.

Ico slowly began trudging along the shore, just to have something to do. His heart felt so heavy, even in the beautiful morning. It was cool enough still that the sand was not too hot on his bare feet, so he took off his sandals and carried them, letting his toes sink down into the sand as he walked. Even as he felt forlorn and lonesome, one of the village priest's favorite sayings came back to him: "There is always something to be thankful for."

Ico sighed and looked around him. True, there were many things to be thankful for. He was alive, after all. Alive and free. He murmured a prayer of thanks, but his heart was still heavy. He walked along the edge of the water, feeling the sand slipping away from him when the water pulled it away, and enjoying the coolness of the water. Finally, he looked up from his feet and saw something lying on the sand in the distance. He couldn't quite make it out; the sun was rising higher and glaring off the bright sand. The thing looked white, whiter even than the sand.

The closer Ico got to the object, the more certain he became that his eyes were playing tricks on him. Perhaps his loneliness was begging his eyes to tell him that it was a person lying on the sand. Yet as he drew ever nearer, he became almost certain that it _was_ a person. Or at least a body. Suddenly his breath caught in his chest and his feet came to a stop. He knew only one person with skin so white, so white it almost seemed to glow in the sunlight.

Dropping his sandals, Ico ran the last several hundred feet, only stopping when his shadow lay over the body. It was Yorda, all right. There was no mistaking it – the bright white skin, the matching dress, the brownish hair lying limply on her neck. Perhaps it was simply the glaring sand behind her, but Ico thought her skin didn't look quite so unearthly pale as it had before; it was tinted ever so slightly pink. Yorda lay with one arm tucked under her head, her other hand lying on the sand. Her eyes were closed, and she was very still – as though in a deep sleep, or...

Ico stared, his heart in his throat, at the girl on the sand. He hardly dared to breathe and forced himself not to think. The moment stretched on and on, and Ico might have stood there for all eternity, but then Yorda's eyelashes twitched and her fingers curled around the rough grains of sand. Slowly, her violet eyes opened and she turned her gaze upward.

"_Ico..._"

**The End**


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